


Bound by the Stars

by mugoi_usagi



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Adult Themes, Din is a Tired Dad, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, Protective Din Djarin, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Tarot, Work In Progress, and somehow it's gonna be fine, and you are a tired adult, mention of friend death, no y/n
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:33:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugoi_usagi/pseuds/mugoi_usagi
Summary: While hiking, you find yourself transported to Tatooine and encounter a bounty hunter and his small, green son. You read tarot and make yourself useful, discovering that your fates are entwined.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You
Comments: 35
Kudos: 61
Collections: SW Happy SIs





	1. The Hermit

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to have to come up with a better description. Thank you for reading this! It's my first fic and I hope you like it! I'll do my best to get chapters out at a fairly steady pace!

You’re coming up to the end of day five hiking through Bears Ears National Monument in southeastern Utah. You’ve had a rough several months and you would have been able to handle any of the life changes individually, but the seemingly unending string of crushing blows were more than you could take. The final straw had been when you were “let go” from your job a week ago today. The company was “eliminating redundancy.” You all knew it was bullshit. Management had created the redundancy by having the other employees do the work they had originally hired you to do. You were bitter but took a little comfort in knowing how much you’d be missed. Your last week brought a number of employees to your desk lamenting the added workload and mourning the loss of the only people who kept the office running smoothly: you and the other two people in your position. The big bosses may not have given a shit, but at least you knew that everyone else had appreciated the work you’d done for them all this time. Add that on top of the sudden death of one of your closest friends and your significant other dumping you because they “don’t think we should date anymore” and you’d just had it. It was too much. You worked your ass off for that stupid company for 6 years. You put 7 years of your life into that relationship. And for what? For them both to crash spectacularly. And instead of having “they can go fuck themselves” drinks with your friend, you were alone and trying to conjure up her voice in a desperate attempt to find some comfort. You weren’t sure if it was the exhaustion, the stress, or a significantly early midlife crisis, but you decided that her universal solution of, “You should just go be a hermit” was the exact advice you needed to follow. So here you are, surrounded by red stone, sweating in the sweltering summer heat, and lugging around a backpack full of gear and a few precious possessions. God, what you wouldn’t give for a shower and a soft bed!

You pause in the shade of a large outcropping, gazing around at the boldly colored strata of the surrounding rock and take a long swig from your water bottle. You bought one with a built-in filter so you could fill it in the rivers or streams along your route. It’s a nice change to the unpleasant taste that comes from the purification tabs you’ve used on previous hikes. Pushing off the cool stone, you continue through the canyon. It’s been relatively quiet these past few days with the only significant excitement being the occasional appearance wild bighorn sheep.

The sun is starting to sink lower and the air is turning cool as evening approaches. You decide that as soon as you reach the next clearing, you’ll set up camp for the evening. Looking up, you realize that the sheep are back. You’ve gotten rather fond of them and have taken to chatting with them whenever they turn up.

“Oh hey frens! You’ve got a pretty good view from up there, huh? See any spots a girl could get some sleep?”

A few of the sheep stare at you and bleat their responses.

“Beautiful! Thanks bruh!” you call back cheerfully.

This is fine. This is normal. People talk to animals all the time, right? Good lord. You shake your head at yourself and continue on. This is the first time you’ve done a multiday hike on your own. Usually, it was several friends or the local hiking community. This time, you decided, it was time to be a hermit. After two days without anyone to talk to, you’ve started talking to everything. The sheep, plants, the occasional lizard that scurries across your path, anything to feel like you aren’t completely alone. Fuck. You were not meant to be a recluse. It was definitely not time to be a hermit.

As you follow the curve of the canyon, a clearing comes into view, but you stop dead in your tracks and mutter an incredibly confused, “What the fuck?”

There, in the center of the clearing, is a large metal obelisk. It shines brilliantly, reflecting the warm colors of the sunset and stone around it. This makes no damn sense. You spoke with several of your buddies in the local hiking group about the route you’re taking, and they mentioned plenty of landmarks, but not one of them was a perfectly polished, metal pillar. There’s something about it that tugs at you. It looks so perfectly smooth. The canyon is dusty, and yet the reflection on the surface of this bizarre shaft is pristine. You let out a giggle, imagining your friend nudging you and giving you a gleeful, childish smirk at the word “shaft.” God, you two were such idiots when you got together!

You approach the obelisk, circling it, looking for any indication of where it came from. There don’t seem to be any tool marks, almost like it’s a single chunk of solid steel. Well, maybe not steel. Something about it seems…different. Not quite normal? You puzzle this over as you look at the base only to realize that there doesn’t seem to be one. There’s certainly a visible line between the rock and the metal, but there’s no gap, no indication separating one from the other. The ground is slightly uneven, and yet the base of the pillar seems to be molded to the shape of the ground, as though the stone and the metal are one. This has got to be the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen. You pull out your camera and snap several pictures, sure that someone will be able to tell you what the hell you found once you get back to society.

Back to society. Just the thought of it makes you cringe. Back to jobs and reminders of everyone who isn’t there anymore. Maybe you can just live in the woods. It’ll be fine, right. Tom Hanks did it and the only thing he had to talk to was a volley ball. You can make this work. It’ll be fine. Your head drops as bone weariness crashes over you, crushing and suffocating and exhausting. You just want the debilitating weight in your chest to lift. Want things to feel good again. Want to feel normal. You look up and study your reflection in the metal surface feeling like you don’t quite recognize the woman reflected there. You feel that tug again and take a step towards it.

You _need_ to touch it.

You reach out and brush your fingers against the surface, testing the temperature of it. You see a look of startled confusion come over your reflected face at the inconceivably cool metal. It’s been sitting in direct sun. It should be hot if not absolutely blazing! You reach out again and press your hand to the surface, closing your eyes and focusing on the sensation of the icy metal leeching the warmth from your palm. You open your eyes and a wave of dizziness slams into you. Your vision tilts and you suddenly feel yourself falling, vision going black.

***

You wake up just enough to blindly fumble for your blanket, but you pause when your hand brushes across something cool and soft. Through the fog of sleep, you try to think of what could be on your tent floor. You try to roll over onto your back, eyes snapping open with a rush of adrenaline as you feel something gripping you from behind. As you try to wrestle loose from your captor, your arms flail, spraying sand into your face. You freeze. Bears Ears wasn’t this sandy. You try to calm the alarm bells screaming though your body and feel your surroundings. There’s sand everywhere and as you pat yourself down, you realize that you’re still wearing your pack. Of course you can’t roll over. The pack is huge and easily at least 30 pounds. You try to calm your breathing as you slip out of the straps and pull yourself up to sitting. The adrenaline is starting to subside leaving you with a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. There’s no sign of the red stones of Bears Ears or the strange metal obelisk. As best you can tell, you’ve somehow been dumped in the middle of the desert. It feels…wrong. Almost the same “wrong” as the obelisk. You try to get your bearings, looking up to the sky. People have navigated by the stars for centuries, you think, so why not you? Except that as you gaze up you see not one, but three moons in varying phases nestled among a million stars. Well, that settles it then. This is officially the weirdest fucking dream you’ve ever had. Maybe you hit your head when you fell. Or the heat of the day has caught up to you. Either way, you might as well explore.

You turn slowly, scanning the sands for any sign of light and catch a flicker to your left. As best you can tell, it’s quite some distance off, but it looks like it could be a campfire and where there’s fire, there’s people. You hoist your pack up and get it comfortable on your back, clipping the straps to distribute the weight more evenly. You head towards the flickering light, looking around you to try to find any signs of life. You catch a glimpse of something moving off to one side and trip over something hard. You throw your hands out to catch yourself and your knee slams into whatever tripped you.

“Fuck!” You can’t see a damn thing and your knee is stinging. “Fucking flashlight, dipshit.” You mutter to yourself, standing, dusting your hands on your pants, tugging your pack off again and reach into a pocket for your flashlight. You flick it on and find the rock you just tripped on then turn the light on yourself to inspect your knee. Your pants are torn and blood is starting to well up along a shallow gash. Not a dream then. All the more reason to find people. You dust your hands off on your pants and lift your pack, continuing on, now scanning the ground for any more tripping hazards. When you finally get close enough to see the campfire clearly, you can make out a dark shape standing there, firelight reflecting off the metal they’re wearing. As your brain tries to make sense of it, you’re jolted out of your thoughts by a voice that sounds like it’s coming through a radio.

“Stay where you are. Who are you?”

You continue to approach, now only a dozen or so yards away. “What? I’m just trying-“ but you’re cut off by a sharp command.

“I said stay where you are!” the figure says louder. This time you catch a glint of metal in their raised hand. You freeze. “Tell me who you are. I don’t want to shoot, but I will.”

Throwing your hands up in a ‘calm down’ motion, you respond, “Woah! Hey! Okay! Look, I’m just trying to figure out where I am!” You call out your name as the figure – he? – slowly approaches you.

He’s tall. Easily a several inches taller than you. You take in the metal armor, noticing that one of the pieces on his thigh doesn’t quite match it’s counterpart. The oddest piece, though, is the helmet. A silver dome with angular indents on either side of the face and a large, black, T shaped visor that splits the front of the helmet. You can’t see his face and it’s hard to imagine that he can see much of anything with how dark that visor is. He looks you up and down and slowly puts away his gun.

“Where did you come from?”

Irritated by this stranger’s demanding tone and condescending look, you glare and reply saltily, “Who the hell are you?” You hold yourself a little higher and prop a hand on your hip. “I’m just trying to figure out where the fuck I am and you come at me with a fucking gun demanding to know who I am?” You throw your hands, palm side up, out to the sides. “Do I look like a fucking threat to you?”

The stranger shifts and you get the feeling he’s not used to being spoken to like that. “You’re the one who approached us.”

“I just told you I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.” You say, exasperated. “I woke up where ever the fuck this is. And who’s us?”

“You’re on Tatooine. Where did you come from?”

“Tattooween? Sure. Great. That makes fucking sense.” Your irritation is getting the better of you and you start to snap at this stranger. “Where the fuck is Utah in relation to here? Hell, where the fuck is Earth in relation to here? Why are there three moons? How the fuck did I even get here?!”

He shifts uncomfortably and looks behind him. You see movement and hear soft baby coos. “Hey, I told you to stay put.” The shape continues its approach and the metal clad figure sounds exasperated as he repeats himself, “Kid, just- please go sit down. I’ll be right there.” It’s clear that it’s no more effective the second time and the tiny child comes into your flashlight beam.

You take a step back in alarm, “What the- what is that?!” The approaching figure is tiny and green with enormous dark eyes to match it’s equally enormous bat like ears. It looks like it’s wearing a large brown sack. It stares up at you, reaching out with a tiny, three fingered hand. You pull away and before it can make contact, the man scoops it up.

“How many times have I told you? You can’t just go up to random people.” The child looks at him and coos again as the man shakes his head and sighs. “You might as well come.” He says, turning away from you and walking back to the fire. You hesitate and then follow, eager to get warm and dress your scrape.

“You still haven’t told me who you are.” You say as you drop your pack and sit on a large flat rock. The man doesn’t look at you, he just passes some food to the green child, now seated beside him.

“I’m Mandalorian.”

“Wait…is that your name?” You ask in confusion. It sounds more like an ethnicity.

“No.”

“So it’s your ethnicity?”

He sighs. “Mandalorian isn’t a race, it’s a creed.”

You close your eyes and silently ask for the patience to deal with this man. So much for getting any kind of help. You can’t even get the guy’s name. You tug open your pack and pull out your first aid kit. The Mandalorian is watching you and you realize that child is starting to creep over to you. You shift away a little and roll up your pants leg to better access the cut. You see the child continuing to approach out of the corner of your eye and shift your leg away again.

“He wants to heal you.”

You look up at the sudden voice. “That’s sweet, but there’s not much he’s going to be able to do about it. I have stuff to take care of it.” You unwrap an alcohol wipe and suck in a sharp breath at the sting as you wipe your knee. The child has stopped and is watching you as you clean out the cut and wipe away the smears of blood that ran down your leg. You toss the wipe into the fire and grab your antibiotic ointment, dabbing it onto the cut before wrapping a band aid over the whole thing. “See? No big deal, little guy!” You smile at the child and have to admit, he’s actually pretty cute. He coos out some babble at you, looking up at you with those big, dark eyes. Ok, no, he’s freaking adorable.

The Mandalorian is still watching you as you roll your pants back down. “So you don’t have a name. Does he?” You give the Mandalorian a pointed look.

“I call him ‘kid.’ I don’t know his name.”

You give him an incredulous look. “You don’t know his name?” A thought occurs to you and you ask in an accusatory tone, “What’d you do, kidnap him?!” Good lord! Not only have you been dropped into the middle of God knows where, you’re sitting at the fire of a trigger-happy kidnapper!

“No!” The Mandalorian sits up a little straighter, “I rescued him and I’ve been tasked with returning him to his people.”

“Oh…” Okay, maybe not a kidnapper. Weird story, but the kid seems to like him. The little guy has gone back over to the Mandalorian and is eating from the dish he had been given. You pull some packages out of your pack along with a pot and spoon. Quinoa is the easiest thing to prep right now and you get to it, dumping the grain and seasoning into the pot and adding water. Hopefully there will be somewhere to refill your bottle because you’re nearly out. You put the lid on and set the pot as close as you can to the fire. You sit quietly watching the flames and sneaking glances at your host out of the corner of you eye. He still has that helmet on. Weird. You look back to the fire.

“Mando.”

Your head snaps up to look at him. “What?” You’re startled by the sudden comment after several minutes of silence.

“It’s what people call me.”

“Mando, huh? You got a face to go with the name?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow at him.

“No.”

Oh great. We’re back to that again. Talking to this guy is like slamming your head against a brick wall. You start poking at your pot of quinoa and then dig through your pack for some of the chicken jerky you usually add. The kid is watching you as you pull a few pieces out and flick open your pocketknife to slice them into bite sized pieces. You carefully cut the meat against your thumb as you hover over the pot letting the chicken drop into the cooking grain. Once it’s all in, you give it a stir and put the lid back on. You set to tidying up, using your shirt to wipe the knife, flipping it closed, and dropping it back into your pack while digging out a jacket. The air has continued to cool and you have no idea how much colder it’s going to get.

“You seem awfully prepared for not knowing where you are.” Mando speaks up again.

“I was prepared for Bears Ears, not some alien planet.” You glance up and he’s looking at your silently. Waiting. You draw in a long breath and huff it out, “I was having a sh-“ you catch yourself and glance at the kid, “A bad few months. So I packed my gear and went to spend a week hiking through Bears Ears National Monument. It’s all red stone canyons and big horn sheep. I figured it would be good to be away from people for a while. Give me time to think. Figure out what to do next. After a few days I was getting ready to stop for the night and stumbled onto this weird…I don’t know. Metal pillar. It didn’t make any sense. It was cold even though it had been sitting in the sun all day. It should have been burning hot but it was almost icy. I had my hand on it because…I- don’t actually know. I had to? Like, I had to touch it. And then I got really dizzy and passed out. And now I’m here.” This sounds ridiculous. You sound like a lunatic. You try not to look at Mando.

“So you really aren’t from around here.”

This isn’t what you were expecting. Disbelief? Sure. Assertions that you’re stark raving mad? Definitely. Unquestioning belief? No. “This doesn’t sound the least bit bananas to you?”

“What?” Mando tilts his head like you’re speaking a foreign language.

“You don’t think this is straight up bananas. Climbing up the friggin’ bananas tree. You’re just totally cool with this?”

“I don’t…I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re saying. What’s a…bananas tree?” He sounds so apologetic for not understanding and it catches you off guard.

“Oh my god...” You drop your head into your hands and mutter to yourself, “Slang. Slang isn’t universal. Duh.” You pause as you realize that English isn’t either. “Wait. How can you speak English?”

“I’m speaking Galactic Basic Standard.”

“Sure. Yeah. Good. Great. Perfect.” You can feel your face screwing into an almost comical grimace as you lose yourself in your thoughts momentarily, eyes glazing over. This is fine. You’re on a foreign planet with alien beings who somehow speak the same language as you. Well, not exactly the same. Apparently bananas are a mystery. You snap back to attention, suddenly realizing you never actually explained what you were saying. “Bananas is crazy. Insane. Mentally unstable.”

Mando nods with a hum of understanding and you both return to silence. When your dinner is cooked, you pull the pot out of the fire and give it another stir. “You want some?” You glance up to Mando and the kid, “You’re kind of saving my butt here. It’s just quinoa, but I do appreciate the help.”

Mando looks at the kid, who is reaching out towards the food, “He’ll have some. I’m sorry. I…can’t.” You look at him and wait. “I…Mandalorians are forbidden from removing their helmets. No living thing has seen my face since I took the creed.”

“So…how do you…eat?” You give him a skeptical look.

“I can take it off, just not where I can be seen. This is the way.” He says the last part as though he’s reciting something.

“So like…a vow of…what would you even call that?” You chew on your lip as you try to figure out what to call it, “Mandalorians take a vow of facelessness?”

He sighs. You give the kid a little eye roll and scoop some of the hot grain into his dish. “Carefully, little man. It’s hot.” You lift a spoonful and blow on it before hesitantly taking a bite. “So…” You glance over at Mando. “You a soldier or something?”

“Bounty hunter.”

“You always this talkative?” You give him side eye as you take another bite.

“Are you?”

You can’t help it. You choke a little and burst out laughing, his snarky reply catching you off guard. “Yes! Holy shit! You do have a personality!” Your laughter dies down to a chuckle and you keep eating. “You seem to be taking all of this in stride. How often do you meet aliens?! I mean, isn’t it the least bit weird that I basically just appeared here?”

The Mandalorian just shrugs and lets out a huff that almost sounds like a laugh. “Not as uncommon as you’d think.”

You just shake your head incredulously. This is all too much and you’re starting to feel the waves of exhaustion from the whole overwhelming experience wash over you. You try to stifle a yawn but the Mandalorian catches you.

“You can sleep. You’ll be safe.”

“I have a tent, but it’s not big enough for two…” You explain hesitantly.

“I’m fine. I’ll get you to Mos Eisley in the morning. You can figure out what to do from there.”

You hum in acknowledgement and pull out your pop-up tent. He may not care about getting sand in his face while he sleeps, but you do. You flick it out shove your pack inside, crawling in after it. You contemplate removing your shoes but realize that it isn’t entirely worth it since the sand will get in anyway. You pull out your sleeping bag and slip into it, wriggling to mold the sand into a more comfortable bed. “Night,” you call out, still wondering what you’re supposed to do with yourself when you get to the city he mentioned.

You hear a quiet, “Sleep well” and feel a smile tug at the corners of your lips. You sit up and grab at your pack, pulling out the tarot cards your friend had gifted you. They always made you feel like you were still connected to her. Shuffling the deck, you pulled a single card, using your flashlight to read it: The Fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Hermit represents soul-searching, introspection, being alone, inner guidance. This seemed like an appropriate place to start our journey!


	2. The Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during Episode 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're all enjoying this so far! So far we're near-ish to the canon of episode 10. We'll be abandoning canon soon though.

When you wake, you still feel the chill of the morning, but the sun is shining brightly through the thin fabric of your tent. You take a moment to orient yourself, at first trying to figure out why you still have your boots on. The events of the previous night come back to you in a rush as you feel something moving next to you and look down to find a small lump of brown cloth and a single green ear nuzzled into your side. He’s breathing softly and seems to be quite comfortable. The door to your tent is open just enough for the child to have crawled in. He clearly wasn’t concerned about closing the flap after him, but at least there isn’t much sand that came in with him. You can hear Mando moving around outside and a shadow falls over the tent.

“Hey…kid?” you hear him call softly at the door of the tent. Do you detect a hint of worry in his tone?

“Morning.” You yawn back to him with a stretch, “He’s in here. Must have crept in after I fell asleep.” To the child you say, “Morning, sweet pea,” and gently nuzzle his cheek with a finger. He squeaks a little and shifts, clearly not interested in waking. You chuckle a little and start to pack up your sleeping bag. Grabbing a clean shirt from your pack, you pull it on over yesterday’s tank top and wriggle out of the tank top. You stuff it into your pack before crawling out of the tent. You’re glad you brought something that provided a little more sun protection. In the canyon you could rely on shade, but out here there was nothing but sand stretching as far as you could see and who knew how much help the sunblock would be. Leaning back into the tent, you scoop up your surprise visitor before standing and turning to Mando. “Apparently he wanted some snuggles.” You pass the child off to Mando’s waiting arms.

“Sorry about that.”

You laugh, “There’s nothing to apologize for. He’s quite the little snuggle bug! I definitely don’t mind surprise baby snuggles.” You duck back into the tent to drag your pack out and then set about shaking the sand out and folding the tent back up. “How old is he?” you ask as you stuff your tent back into its pouch and clip it to your pack.

“Fifty.”

You laugh again and dig your comb out of your pack. “Looks good for fifty! Seriously though, he can’t be more than, what? Two?” You glance over at Mando as you start to work the tangles from the night out of your hair. He just stares at you, unreadable behind that shining helm.

“He’s fifty. I don’t know what race he is, but they must have extraordinarily long lives.”

You pause in your detangling and stare at him dumbfounded before looking down to the child in his arms and back to Mando. “You’ve gotta be shitting me. Seriously?! Holy shit! The oldest creature I’ve ever heard of is a fucking tortoise and it’s not even 200!” Your eyebrows pull together and you narrow your eyes at Mando. “How old are _you_?”

“Not as old as him.”

You continue to stare at him incredulously as you finish detangling your hair and fix it so it won’t bother you while you hike. “What race are you? Are humans a thing out here? I’m a human.”

“Humans are…a thing.” He repeats your words with some unfamiliarity.

“Huh. But you don’t have a race?” You pull some dried fruit from your pack for breakfast, “Bananas and craisins?” you ask, holding out the pack before remembering the conversation from the previous night. “Shit! Sorry! Right. Helmet stays on.” You suddenly realize you’ve spent the entire time swearing, “Crap! Nope! Sorry! I keep swearing and the little one is right there. Sorry.”

“He’s heard worse.” Mando says, shrugging. He places the child in a pouch that he slings around his neck and then turns to look at you, tilting his head to the side a little, “Didn’t you say ‘bananas’ was ‘insane?’”

You laugh for the third time that morning and pop the dried fruit in your mouth. “It’s a kind of fruit. Long and yellow and curved. The edible part is soft and white. It’s a good source of potassium so I always bring dried banana when I hike. I’m not sure how it came to be a synonym for crazy, but whatever.” You look around taking in the surrounding area for the first time and realize that, as with the moons from the previous night, there were more suns than you were used to. “Mando! They have TWO SUNS here?!” You look at him again in surprise and he simply shrugs, gathering his things. You realize that he has rather a lot of stuff to carry and seems to simply be tying it to a metal bar. “Do you not have a pack or something?”

“Got attacked. Speeder bike got destroyed. We’ll be able to make it to Mos Eisley by tonight if we leave now.” He looks at you and waits.

“Right.” You shove a fist full of dried fruit in your mouth and tuck the bag back into your pack. Digging into a side pocket, you pull out a small solar charger that you clip to the top of your pack before hauling the pack onto your shoulders. You buckle the waist and chest straps and look back at him. He’s got the metal bar across his shoulders like a yolk and, with a glance at you, turns and starts walking.

***

Throughout the day you do your best to keep up with Mando and you get the sense that he’s trying to go slow enough for you. By lunch you’re out of water and Mando has kindly informed you that, no, there is no more water anywhere to refill your bottle. He seems to tolerate your requests to stop so you can reapply sunscreen and allows you time to grab some food from your pack to eat while you walk. You pass some to the child as well since Mando doesn’t seem to notice the poor thing is hungry. By late afternoon, you’re struggling to keep up and Mando has passed a canteen over to you. After learning that all the water on the planet has to be drawn from the air on moisture farms, you’re particularly careful not to spill any. The whole thing reminds you of the Wheel of Time series and you spend a significant amount of time trying to remember the name of the desert dwellers to no avail. As the suns are setting, you catch a glimpse of light far on the horizon.

“Is that it? Mos…” You trail off, forgetting the name.

“Mos Eisley, yes. Probably another hour now.” Mando pauses, looking back at you. “You alright?”

You nod and plod past him. You’re exhausted. It’s been unbearably hot, you’re dehydrated, and your calves ache like nothing else. You had no idea walking on sand would destroy you quite like this. You’re pretty sure the only thing that’s going to keep you moving at this point is music. You pull your phone out of your pocket and reach over your shoulder to unclip your solar charger. You make a silent prayer that sunlight is sunlight and it actually charged your battery. You click the on button to check the charge and let out a relieved sigh. “Hey, Mando. You mind if I play music?” you ask glancing back.

“What?”

“I have music on my phone and I swear to God if I don’t have some kind of music for the next hour I’ll never make it.” You give him a pleading look. “I need motivation.”

He sighs and walks past you, returning to the steady pace he’s kept all day. Taking that as consent, you pull up your workout playlist and set the volume loud enough for you to hear it, but quiet enough to talk over. You trot to catch up and fall into step next to him. The child is starting to make little vocalizations that almost sound like he’s trying to sing along. You smile at him. “You like this, peanut?” He grins at you and you start to move with the rhythm of the music, dancing a little as you walk along. Mando just looks over at you and sighs, continuing his steady plodding.

“Oh come on! You can’t tell me aliens don’t dance!” You insist, rolling your eyes at Mando and continue to dance along beside him.

“Mandalorians don’t.”

You refuse to accept this. “No. Absolutely not. Every single culture on Earth dances! They all create music! You absolutely cannot convince me that an alien race has avoided the most universal language! Look! Even this little peanut is dancing!” You’re suddenly fired up and the ludicrous thought of a culture without music. “You have to have music. Even the most simple cultures have music! Animals have music! Bang two sticks together and you’ve got a rhythm. Humans had music before they were even human! Neanderthals had music for fuck’s sake!”

“Mandalorians have music. I knew someone who played the bes’bev.” Mando says when you pause in your rant.

“What’s a bez bev?” you ask, looking at him eagerly.

“It’s an instrument. You blow into it. Like a pipe with holes that you change the pitch with. The end is sharpened for combat.”

Your face screws up in exaggerated horror. “What the fuck kind of culture do you come from that a fucking flute is for fighting?! I mean, people used drums and pipes as army signals in the past or as an intimidation technique, but as a weapon?!”

“Weapons are part of my religion.”

You continue to stare, losing the rhythm of your dancing and stopping to stare as Mando continues on. You shake your head incredulously and trot to catch up with him. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to wrap your head around this guy. Everything about him is completely foreign. After some time, the child starts to get fussy and you switch from your workout playlist to the one you listen to when you can’t fall asleep. The dulcet melodies are clearly what he needed because within minutes, he’s sunk into the pouch and is snoring quietly.

The music helps the time pass and you hum along as the city grows closer. You follow Mando through the gates and down a wide street. This is nothing like what you were expecting. You’re surrounded by single story buildings that remind you of the adobe huts characteristic of old westerns. You were expecting a city, but you appear to have simply been brought to the nearest collection of beings. It’s late and there aren’t a lot of people walking around, but there are definitely a few…beings. You’re not even sure what to call them. Aliens is accurate, but it doesn’t capture the range of creatures you’re seeing. You’re still trying to wrap your head around what you’re seeing when Mando calls your name. “We’re going in here. Don’t talk to anyone. These aren’t the most trustworthy people.”

You make a sound of acknowledgement and follow him into a dimly lit, crowded bar. Or at least you assume its a bar. It looks like a bar and there are a few bottles of a strange blue liquid behind the bar and on tables throughout the room. You see a large humanoid with a crown of horns throw back a shot of the blue liquid. You can feel the eyes of the other patrons on you and, glancing around, you realize that while they are giving you a glance, they seem to be focused on Mando. You make a mental note to ask him about this after and follow him to a booth with a giant…ant? This is weird. Very, very weird. You realize you’re staring and look away towards the person sitting with the ant. She’s a petite woman with a mass of tight curls on her head. She looks to be roughly middle aged and is, as far as you can tell, human. She glances at Mando and practically orders him to pay the ant’s bet for whatever card game they’re playing. You’re guessing she’s his boss then? You’re struggling to follow the conversation and keep getting distracted by the variety of languages you’re hearing around you. A hand lands on your shoulder and you turn, realizing that Mando is trying to direct you back towards the door.

“We’re leaving.” He says in a low voice. You follow Mando and the woman out and down several streets to a yard with a spaceship of some kind in the center and several little robots skittering around. You feel like it’s all too much for your brain to take in. You startle as a hatch in the ship begins to lower, forming a ramp up to the body. Mando turns to walk up the ramp but the woman scolds him in a harsh tone, making him pause.

“Wait just a minute! You’re not taking that little womprat with you! I haven’t seen him in ages!” Mando turns and the woman scoops the child out of the pouch and starts cooing at him. You’re starting to rethink the idea that he’s all that intimidating. Not only did he get uncomfortable the previous night when you yelled at him, he seemed like he couldn’t refuse this woman either. Mando disappears into the belly of the ship and you can hear him putting things away.

“You don’t look like a bounty.” You startle again, realizing that the woman is now talking to you.

“Oh…no,” you say awkwardly, introducing yourself, “I just…uh…” You’re grateful when Mando interrupts you.

“She was abandoned in the desert. Needs help getting settled. New to the planet.”

“What’s wrong with ya?” The woman looks you over with a wary side eye. “You’re too pretty a thing to be dumped in the middle of nowhere. The only pretty girls who get ditched are trouble.”

You feel your heart clench and tears pricking at your eyes. “I’m NOT trouble, thank you VERY much!” You respond fiercely. The comment brought back memories of your significant other and their vague excuse to end the relationship. Your throat tightens and you snap, “Sometimes people decide that you’re not worth their time anymore! Sometimes you put all your time and energy into being the kind of person that someone wants around and you STILL GET LEFT BEHIND.” You can feel your face burning and the tears threatening to spill down your face, but you don’t care. “You think I WANTED to start my career over? You think I WANTED to waste seven FUCKING years with someone who couldn’t even be bothered to come up with an excuse for leaving?! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU TO JUDGE ME?” You spit the question out and stare down the woman, breathing heavily. She only looks back at you, mildly perturbed.

“Hoo. You know how to pick ‘em don’t ya?” She says looking at Mando. He doesn’t move. “Alright, girlie. Come on. You need a drink.” She turns and starts to walk away. You’re still standing there, fists clenched, staring daggers, tears running down your face. “What are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

You can feel the exhaustion flooding your body again, arms going limp and face dropping as the anger drains from you as quickly as it appeared, washed away by the exhaustion. Slowly, you head towards the doorway she just disappeared through and enter the dim room. “Go on. Lose the bag and sit.” She returns with a couple of glasses and a bottle of the same blue liquid you saw at the bar. “You’re a spit fire. I like that.”

You undo the straps of your pack and let it gently slip to the floor. “Thanks, uh…”

“Peli. Go on. Have a drink.” She says, pouring a measure of the liquid into a cup and pushing it in across the table. She jiggles the child a coos at him as he reaches for the bottle. “Ah ah little one! You’ve got a few more years before you get some!”

“What is it?” You look down at the glass as you drop into a chair across from the one she’s settled in. The room is sparsely furnished. Just a table, a couple of chairs, and a worn couch. It seems to serve as a multi-purpose living space. It still manages to feel cluttered with all kinds of scrap metal and electronics stacked up against the walls.

“Spotchka. Jeez. You are new!” Peli downs her glass and bangs the glass on the table.

It sounds Russian to your ears and you pick up the glass and give it a sniff before taking the shot. It burns your throat and has an odd, unfamiliar taste, but the warm sensation that comes with liquor spreads through your stomach.

“I pulled the Fool last night.” You say, almost to yourself, eyes losing focus, “It makes sense. New beginnings. Being inexperienced. Unexpected things happening.”

“What are you going on about?” Peli askes irritably.

“Oh!” You start and return your focus to her, “I read tarot. They’re cards that you can use to interpret events or try to predict things. I can show you.” You turn and rifle through your pack, emerging with your tarot deck. You shuffle the cards and place them in the center of the table. “I’ll do a reading for you. Cut the deck.”

Peli looks intrigued and divides the deck. You’re suddenly grateful that at least some sayings seem to be universal. You pick up the bottom portion of the deck and turn over three cards, one at a time.

“This is a simple reading. The first card represents your past. The knight of pentacles is reversed, representing self-discipline and perfectionism. You needed to teach yourself to stick with a job and see it through in order to become successful. The second is your present. The nine of wands is reverse, representing constant challenges in your path. It reminds you that you have it in you to face these challenges and turn them into successes.” You pause when you flip the final card in the reading. “Huh…”

“Whadaya mean ‘huh?’ What’s it say?” Peli asks anxiously. She seems to be hanging on your every word.

“So…the third card represents the future. This is the ten of swords. Normally it’s not great news but reversed…It’s hard to say. It can represent a few different things.” You pause and chew your lip, thinking. Peli is staring at you, unblinking, and you continue. “Sometimes it represents a person fighting against inevitable change and they need to just rip the bandage off and get it over with. Sometimes it’s an indication of old wounds that they’ve buried deep and will need to deal with because something dredges them back up. But it can also be a sign that the pain and sadness you’re feeling is coming to an end and you can begin feeling hope for the future.”

Peli sits quietly for a minute staring at the cards and bouncing the child on her lap. When she finally looks up at you, she has a sly grin on her face. “Oh, you’re good. Mando says you need to get settled, huh? I know exactly how to get you settled here. You can pay me back for the help with your earnings!” She gets up and heads back out the doorway calling for Mando. You hurriedly scoop up your cards and follow her out. “Mando! You’ve got a deal. I’ll make sure she gets settled.”

Mando pauses and looks at Peli, tilting his head to the side in a way that makes him seem skeptical. “What’ll it cost.” He says it like a statement more than a question.

Peli grins, “Don’t you worry about it. She’ll take care of that.”

Mando turns to face her directly and repeats himself, more firmly this time, “What will it cost.”

Peli scoffs and waves him off. “You could have mentioned she was a seer! I’ll get her set up doing her tarrow thing in the cantina and she can pay me back from her wages. She’ll make a killing!” She glances over at you and gives you a once over, “We’ll have to fix you up to look the part, but I’m sure we’ll figure it out. You’ll pay me back the cost of setting up. Room, board, clothes. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of it all!”

Mando looks directly at you and you feel like that blank visor is staring directly into your being. “You’re a seer?”

“No- well…huh. I mean, I…guess? I read tarot. I mentioned it to Peli because I pulled the Fool last night and she didn’t know so I did a reading and…I guess it was…good?” You glance at Peli, who continues to grin eagerly, before returning your focus to Mando. “I mean…plenty of people make a living reading fortunes back home. I suppose it wouldn’t be a terrible way to start a new life.” You give a little shrug and he nods.

“You said you had information on where to find a Jedi?” He asks, turning to Peli.

“Oh right!” She gently passes the child back to Mando, who cradles him in one arm. “She needs to get to Trask.”

Peli and Mando continue to talk business as you look down at the cards in your hand. You feel a pair of eyes on you and glance up to see the child watching you with a serious expression. You give the cards a shuffle and draw one: the eight of swords.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Fool represents beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit.


	3. Eight of Swords

Mando has gone and Peli has set you up to sleep on her sofa. It looks dingy and lumpy, but you’ve slept on worse. She’s also given you a run down of her scheme. You’ll read fortunes at the Cantina for a ‘small’ fee and split the profits with Peli in exchange for room and board. She was clearly used to getting her way and initially suggested 80/20 in her favor. You laughed at her and told her that if she wanted that much, she’d better learn to read tarot herself. After a fair bit of back and forth, you argued her down to 35/65. She grumbled about it, but when you pointed out that the first few payments would also include reimbursement for setting you up, she acquiesced. Complain though she had, you could tell she appreciated someone who drove a hard bargain. You then had to break it to her that you were completely unfamiliar with the currency. Peli was mortified and wouldn’t let you sleep until could confidently handle the currency and make change smoothly. You were exhausted by the time she finally let you sleep, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the card you had pulled that evening. The sword suit was often identified as double edged and more often than not it meant difficulties. The eight was no different. It represented self-imposed restrictions, imprisonment, and a victim mentality. You’re not sure exactly what it meant for you, but you were certainly wary of it.

You were awoken early the next morning to the sound of Peli hollering at the robots in the yard. You could see the early dawn light streaming through the doorway to the yard. You sat up, surprised at how comfortable the sofa had been. Rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you shuffle through your bag and pull out your comb, beginning your morning routine of removing any tangles and then pulling out clean clothes. You slip into the bathroom that Peli pointed you to the night before to change and finish your morning routine and then join her in the yard.

“About time you got up!” Peli snaps at you, “We’ve got work to do if you’re going to set up shop!” You give her a little smile, knowing that she’s all bark.

“So what do we need to do, exactly?”

“You need clothes. You know. Something that’ll scream “Seer” and draw people to you!” She eyes you up and down. “Wouldn’t hurt to show a little skin. And something that’ll make your eyes stand out.” She turns her back on you and starts to walk towards the road, “Come on, girlie. We don’t have all day!”

You follow after the smaller woman, eager to see what the town looks like in the light. People of all kinds are setting up stalls along the street or hanging items outside of shops. Peli leads you to a few different places, scoffing at the cost of the dyed fabrics. It mostly looks like cotton or perhaps linen, though Peli is finally able to settle on something gauzy. It looks like an incredibly finely woven linen, sheer and airy. While she’s been looking for bright fabrics, this one appears to be its natural shade.

“We’ll use this for your headscarf. I was able to wear them down to a reasonable price!” She gives you a sly grin. “You any good with a needle?” she glances at you and you shrug noncommittally, “Eh. We’ll have to see what we can get, then.” She heads off down an ally to a narrow doorway and calls out to someone. “What have you got for a pretty young thing? I’m trying to get this girlie set up.” She impatiently waves you over and the shop owner sizes you up much the way Peli had that morning.

When you finally return to, what you now know is Bay three-five, you’ve got a fitted, crop shirt that reminds you of the sort of top worn under a sari, voluminous harem pants, and the gauzy cloth, all in a natural linen shade. It doesn’t exactly “scream” anything and just sort of blends in with what everyone else is wearing. Perhaps the clothes are exactly the same, but they’re certainly the same bland color. You hear Peli holler from what appears to be a repair hangar and you trot after her.

“I knew this would be useful!” She cries slapping what appears to be an oil drum. She reads the confusion on your face and eagerly explains, “Dye! Some lousy Mythrol didn’t have enough credits to pay for his repairs so I made him fork over some of his cargo. He swore this would give the most vibrant colors in the galaxy, but we’ll have to see about that!” She gave a huff and began gathering up buckets and wooden rods, “Alright. Into the buckets. Pants and scarf in that one, shirt in there.” You did as you were bid and eventually the shirt was submerged in a fuchsia liquid while the pants and scarf swam in a bath that you could only describe as electric blue. While they soaked, Peli walked you through her plan, identifying how much you should be charging per reading, when you would be working, and what to do if a customer got handsy or rude. After you rinsed the clothes in a bath that would set the dye, you hung them out to dry. You had to admit, while you weren’t sure the pink and blue would work well, the fuchsia turned out to have a purple tone, resulting in it pairing nicely with the bright blue of the pants and scarf.

***

The next morning, you’re dressed in your “seer” attire, hair styled to match the look of the clothes. You’re exposing more of your midriff than you expected and are feeling a little self-conscious of it. You look at your reflection and can’t help but think that you would have worn this better as a teen. You wrap the scarf over your hair and drape the excess length around your shoulders. Despite your reservations, you have to admit that you do look pretty fantastic. The bright colors accentuate your eyes and skin tone better than you expected. You pull out the make up that Peli purchased for you and do your best to create a cat eye, adding a bit of a flourish to the end of it. Suddenly feeling inspired, you add a few dots of white across your cheeks, thinking of the way Shuri looked going into battle in Black Panther. You give a little chuckle, feeling like a child playing dress up, and add a dot to the eyeliner flourish.

Peli certainly looks pleased when she sees you and is eager to march you directly to the cantina. The owner is a mild man with a kind expression and you immediately take a liking to him. He introduces himself as Cham and sets you up in a small booth. Peli has convinced him to rent out the booth to you for a small fee and even conned him into supplying some colored lights. Peli created a small sign for you with the prices of each of the readings and you used a scrap paper to note them down as well. Peli had been just as confused by your writing as you had been by the hologram characters she had written up for you. Apparently this was another place where the language differed.

The first day is spent mostly smiling and explaining that, no, you didn’t know what sabacc was and no, you didn’t need a drink, thank you. Towards the evening, when there was a lull, a humanoid woman came over to you. She had orange skin and two thick protrusions from the back of her head. They resembled tails but were clearly not where you would expect them to be. She smiled at you and you returned the expression. “Can I interest you in a tarot reading? A simple three card reading can give you insight into your past, present, and future.” You’re certain if you don’t come home with something, Peli will be griping about it all night.

“I’m unfamiliar with this tarrow, but it’s certainly intriguing. You weren’t here the last time I passed through.” She sits across from you and you begin to shuffle your cards.

“I’m new. Just…got here…recently.” You stumble through your response, feeling the heat in your cheeks, unsure how people talk about arriving on a new planet, and not sure how to explain your recent appearance. It’s the one thing Peli didn’t prep you for. You place the cards down in front of the woman, slowing your breathing and concentrating on the task at hand. “Cut the deck, please.”

She pulls a stack from the top of the deck and places it next to the remaining cards. You collect the cards, stacking the bottom half on top and slowly turn over the top three cards. “The first card represents your past. The high priestess is reversed indicating that you have secrets you’ve locked up and kept silent for many years.” You notice your customer’s eyes widen slightly as she glances from the card, to you. “The second card is your present, represented by the star. This one is reversed as well. Your faith is being tested and you’re feeling hopeless. You need to take time for yourself, to renew your faith and reconnect spiritually.” The woman lets out a breath and you turn the third card and hum with satisfaction. “It’s a good sign that this card is reversed. This is the king of swords and represents your future. This indicates a quiet strength. If you wield it wisely, good things are to come. Be mindful not to abuse your power though, as it’ll lead to your own downfall. Don’t allow others to pull you from your course.” You smile up at her. The woman looks a bit stunned and places a few credits on the table.

“You really do have the sight!” She smiles at you and reaches for your hand, placing an extra credit in your palm and closing her hands around yours. “Thank you, Oracle.” Tucking the credits into the pouch at your waist, you watch as she joins a group at a table across the room. She speaks and a few of the others at the table glance your way. You get an anxious feeling in your gut as you see one of the men with her rise and walk towards you.

***

By the end of the night, you’ve had to borrow a large pouch from Cham to hold the credits you’ve been earning. You were worried when the man with the orange woman approached you, but he had been just as eager for a reading and just as generous with his tip. After that, word spread quickly of the “pretty oracle” that read “tarrow” at the cantina. Peli was beyond thrilled and after several days of raking in credits, she dragged you out again to pick up a new set of clothes, nearly identical to the first, this time dying the pants and scarf in the fuchsia and the shirt in the blue. By the end of the month you had a full wardrobe of “seer” clothes in blues, purples, pinks, and greens as well as one or two pairs of sandals. You had even been able to purchase a few bits of jewelry to enhance the effect. You’ve started to get familiar with some of the locals and have been gaining familiarity with local ingredients. Cham even allows you to experiment in the cantina kitchen on slow days or during the morning lull. People have started addressing you simply as “Oracle” and while it was uncomfortable at first, you’ve grown rather accustomed to it. The one thing you can’t get accustomed to is the frequency with which you pull the eight of swords. You’ve never had the same card come up for you, night after night, with no indication of what it’s alluding to.

Given the assortment of clientele that you’ve seen over the past weeks, you’re not surprised when a wealthy looking man strolls into the cantina and heads directly towards your table. You go through your typical pitch, offering a one, three, or five card spread and, as you anticipated, he asks for the five card spread. You go through the reading in your typical, friendly demeanor, explaining each card and what wisdom they hold. The man never takes his eyes off you, though. Your customers are typically enamored with the unfamiliar art and writing on the cards, but this one feels…wrong. When the reading is over, he drops his payment on the table and gives you a sickening grin that makes your insides writhe.

“Very good,” he says simply before turning and leaving the cantina. You spend the rest of the night trying to shake the feeling that his eyes are still on you.

You smile at some of the regulars and exchange farewells as Cham starts closing for the night. As rough as the cantina can be, you have found nothing but kindness from them. You’ve come to learn that these people have a deep respect for oracles. You plop yourself down on a stool to chat with Cham as he wipes down the bar.

“You know, I’m seeing a lot more business since you started reading fortunes here.” He says kindly, “And I keep getting requests for those fruit tarts you made last week. There’s going to be a riot if I don’t make them a regular thing.”

You laugh and give him a wink, “You can’t possibly be asking the oracle to give up her secrets, can you?” You rest a hand on his arm and smile up at your friend, “I’ll come in early tomorrow and show you how I made them. Just make sure you have those berries! What did you call them? Muja?”

“Anything for you, Little Oracle.” Cham smiles returning the wink. He pats your hand and moves to continue wiping the bar. “Don’t forget to take the spotchka Peli asked for before you leave.” You give him a playful solute and head into the kitchen to grab the blue liquor.

“I’m off! See you in the morning!” You call as you head out the door, liquor in hand.

You’ve gotten comfortable and well respected enough around Mos Eisley that Peli no longer comes to pick you up in the evenings. It’s exactly this level of comfort that leads you to your current disastrous situation. A sack is thrown over your head as you pass an alley on the way back to bay three-five and you feel your arms crushed to your side as burly arms clamp down around you. The bottle of Spotchka drops from your hands and you hear the glass shatter, liquor splashing over your feet. You scream and try to kick but the wind is knocked out of you as a fist collides with your stomach. The arms release you and you crumple to the ground, clutching your stomach and gasping for air. Rope twines around your ankles and your arms are yanked back and bound behind you before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder. Still gasping for air, you’re jostled along before coming to rest, a strong arm holding fast across the back of your knees. You’re suddenly propelled forward at an appalling speed and realize you must be on a speeder bike, the rushing wind and hum of machinery drowning out any other sounds. Your mind starts racing as you try to calm your breathing. You’re suddenly grateful that you always secure your cards firmly to your waist when you walk home. You don’t think you can handle losing them. Who would possibly abduct an oracle? Who would feel like they were above-

“Fuck.” Your stomach drops as you suddenly picture the wealthy client from that evening. You’d heard a little about the man and knew that he liked to collect rare items. You’d assumed that all the talk of “unique women” was rumor or hyperbole. You feel sick as you realize your naivety.

You have no idea how much time has passed since you were abducted, but your neck is sore and your head is swimming from being upside down for so long. You kept trying to hold your head up higher, but you had eventually had to give up after your neck started to cramp. The speeder bike has stopped and you’ve been dumped unceremoniously on the hard ground. You‘re starting to see some light through the sack over your head and you’re guessing that it must be dawn. Then it’s been at least a few hours of travel. Someone grabs you roughly by the arm and yanks you to your feet. You cry out as the rope bites into your wrist and your shoulder throbs from your arms being pulled behind you for so long.

“Shut up,” a deep voice barks and the sack is tugged off. “Don’t even think about running. You’d dehydrate before you ever made it to the nearest village.” Another man is at your feet, slicing through the ropes around your ankles.

You take in the view around you as you regain your footing. Nothing but sand and an enormous, blindingly bright mansion. The white stone reflects the sun, making it nearly impossible to look at the building before you. There are stone steps before you and two Twi’lek women descend the steps towards you, one with deep purple skin, the other brilliantly yellow. They each have a gleaming silver collar around their neck and keep their eyes downcast. They’re dressed in thin, wispy garments that only manage to offer them the barest hint of modesty. They dip in a low, synchronized curtsy before they each take one of your elbows and gently guide you up the stairs. You can only barely swing your head around far enough to catch a glimpse of the muscular man who brought you here. His skin is golden in the dawn light but you can’t manage to catch any other details as you gently turn your face forward again, trying not to agitate your neck muscles further.

“Where are we?” you ask looking at the Twi’lek woman to your right. You notice a pale vine-like pattern swirling across her yellow skin.

“This is the glorious estate of the renowned Master Galcresh. He has generously welcomed you into his care and will allow you to reside here and serve him.” She seems to be reciting lines, delivering them in a flat tone and when you glance at her face, her eyes are devoid of life. Your heart aches to see the emptiness.

“We will dress you and present you to the Master. He will tell you your role.” You glance over at the purple Twi’lek as she begins to speak in a low tone. “Keep your eyes down cast, speak only when spoken to, and always refer to him as ‘master.’ If you want to stay alive, you will _always_ answer when he speaks to you.” Her eyes flash angrily and you’re struck by the contrast of the two women. “I’m Jiljoo, and that’s Aola.”

You offer your name in return and look around you in astonishment as you pass through a large archway. It is noticeably cooler within the building and the whole entry is filled with plants of every kind. There are fountains burbling along the walls every few yards and a clear pool filled with strange fish in a courtyard to the right. Jiljoo and Aola guide you past lavishly decorated rooms and through endless halls before entering a wing that is much more modestly decorated. Everything is clean, but it is clear that these are designed to be servants’ quarters. Aola releases your elbow and heads towards a closed door as Jiljoo guides you into a small room with a bed and a small cupboard.

“These are your quarters. The master,” she spits the title out with disgust, “will inform you of the areas that you are allowed to be.” She unties your hands and begins to undo the buttons on the back of your shirt as Aola enters carrying some wispy scraps of fabric.

“You- you can’t honestly expect me to _wear_ that?!” you gasp in horror. “There’s nothing there! I might as well be naked!” You try to cover your exposed chest as Jiljoo continues undressing you. “What the hell is wrong with my own clothes?!” you can hear the frantic panic creeping into your voice.

“The master desires for his belongings to be attractively displayed.” Aola recites next to you, beginning to drape the gauzy white cloth around you. She secures the pathetic excuse for attire with a gold belt made of intricately carved leaves and then drapes a veil over your head, securing it in place with pins that match the leafy belt.

You feel unbearably exposed and step back, startled as Jiljoo kneels down and reaches for your ankle. She glances up at you with that fiery gaze and huffs, “Just be glad it’s not a collar.” Before snapping a shining gold band around your ankle. You stare at the shackle and feel your throat tighten. This was it. This was the eight of swords. It wasn’t about your state of mind, it was warning of a literal imprisonment! You feel the heat flooding into your face and tears pricking at your eyes, but swallow down the fear and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. No. You will not be stuck here. Peli is just as stubborn as you and greedy to boot. Her eyes nearly popped out of her head when you showed her that first night’s profit. She’d managed to invent all sorts of expenses just to get her hands on more of that profit. She wouldn’t be letting that kind of money slip away. You’re sure she’ll be able to find someone to head a search party. You look at Jiljoo, reflecting her fierceness in your own eyes. “Let’s see this fucker.” You scoop the pouch containing your tarot deck out of a startled Aola’s arms and stalk after Jiljoo, head held defiantly, eyes raging, as she guides you to your captor.

***

When you don’t arrive home at the expected time, Peli goes looking for you, grumbling about Cham holding you up, but he’s locking the door as she approaches.

“Where’s the girlie?” Peli demands. Cham looks at her confused.

“She left here some time ago. Only stay a minute or two longer than usual. She grabbed your spotchka and left.” A worried expression crosses his face, “She didn’t get home?”

“Would I be here if she got home?” Scoffing, Peli looks around, but there’s no hint of where you could be. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.” She snaps at Cham and then walks back toward bay three-five, peering down alleys as she goes, Cham following close behind.

“Peli,” Cham calls, “The spotchka.” He points to a broken bottle and a pouch in one of the narrow alleys not far from the cantina. Peli picks up the pouch, heavy with credits and glares into the dark.

***

“May the force be with you.” Asoka Tano smiles at Mando and the child and Mando nods, turning, and climbs the ramp of the Razer Crest, shutting it behind him. He gets the child settled in a seat and buckles him in before starting up the engines and preparing to input the coordinates for their next destination. A green light flashes on the console as he takes off.

“Grogu.” He says looking at the child. The child immediately looks up at him and coos questioningly. Mando chuckles and turns back to the console, tapping the flashing light. Peli Motto appears on the holoprojector.

“Mando, they took the girl. She got snatched on her way back from the cantina. You need to come get her back. She still owes me!”

Mando glances back at Grogu, who gives him a questioning look, then back to Peli’s message. Shaking his head, Mando bites out a curse and inputs the coordinates for Tatooine. Peli was right. This girl is trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're picking up at the end of Chapter 13 and just gonna abandon canon all together.
> 
> 8 of Swords represents negative thoughts, self-imposed restriction, imprisonment, victim mentality.


	4. Wheel of Fortune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: adult themes, reference to sexual violence, graphic description of violence

You can tell a lot about this man from the room he has dragged you to. Everything is lush. It seems that no matter where in the universe you go, certain things never change. The cushions, the furniture, even the dressings on the wall scream wealth. The colors are bright, the fabrics make you think of silk and velvet. Throughout the room are women of all different races, in various states of undress, looking miserable, terrified, or hollow. Not a smile among them.

“I’m so pleased you could join us. White really is the best color for someone so pure as an oracle.” Drawls your captor, smiling at you in that way that makes your insides writhe. “You really are so lucky that I found you and rescued you from that dirty cantina. Someone of your…” his eyes roam over your exposed body, “…caliber…cannot be expected to thrive in such a place. I will allow you to join me to share your…talents.” His gaze drifts back to your chest and you are painfully aware of just how much he can see through the diaphanous garment. You fight the urge to cover yourself, instead standing tall and defiant, glaring straight ahead. You’re certain that if you have to spend another moment with this disgusting pig, you’re going to punch him right in his smarmy face.

“I’m sure it’s been a very tiring night for you. You may rest until you are summoned.” He continues to stare as you turn on your heels and march out of the room. You hear him comment to one of the thugs next to him, “I look forward to taming that one.”

The audacity of that disgusting pig! You’re tempted to whip around and slam your fist full force into his nose, but you know his thugs would never allow it. You follow Jiljoo back through the halls, beginning to get a sense of the layout of this lavish prison. “What is this place?” you ask Jiljoo softly, “I mean, really.”

She gives you a meaningful look and responds equally quietly, “Isn’t it obvious? It’s the most beautiful prison in the sector.” She scoffs and continues, “Everything here is rare and exotic. The plants, the animals, the _women_. Master Galcresh,” she says his name in a tone dripping with sarcasm, “Is spectacularly rich, very well connected, and one of the most disliked men on this planet. You saw the women in there. He treats them like playthings. Has his way with them. Those are his current favorites. Aola was one of that lot a while ago. She was fierce when she was brought in. He liked the pattern on her skin. It’s rare, so he took her for his collection. And then he broke her.” She bites off the last phrase with distain. “Each one of us is like that. There’s a woman here for her golden eyes, another for her hair, some because they dance, others for the way in which they were born.” She catches you watching her, “I sing. Every party he has, I get trotted out to perform. What is it about you? It must be a skill. You’re not unattractive, but there’s nothing rare about your features.” You know she doesn’t mean in unkindly.

“I read fortunes. He came to the cantina in Mos Eisley and got a reading. He was clearly pleased with it because when I left to return home, his goons snatched me.” The two of you arrive at your room and you find a mannequin head displaying an exquisite gold head chain of leaves like those on your belt, with tiny pearlescent white flowers dripping from it.

Jiljoo sees it and rolls her eyes. “Looks like he’s got plans for you. You were too defiant. I told you to keep your eyes down. He likes demure women, but he prefers the fierce ones. He takes pleasure in breaking them. Don’t give him the satisfaction. I never have.” You see the rage in her eyes once more and realize that she wasn’t giving you orders when you met, she was warning you.

“I get it. Be meek and he loses interest.”

“It’s too late for that. He’s seen your nerve. If you go in all timid and reserved now, he won’t believe it. You have to let him think he’s broken you. It’s not so bad at first. Some threats, a beating.” She shrugs, “It gets much worse if you fight him. He takes pleasure in shaming the ones who don’t break easily. Violates them. Forces us to watch as the guards take their pleasure from her until she’s nothing more than a bloody heap on the floor.” You feel the blood draining from your face as she continues, “Then they all sit back, enjoy a laugh, and we clean up the mess. Some of us take her to be washed and bandaged, others begin cleaning the blood and mess from the floor. Anyone who had any plans of defiance crushes them if only so we can survive.” You sink onto the bed as she finishes explaining. “Don’t let him get that far. Take the fall after the first beating. You really should get some rest. I’m sure they’ll be calling for you before sunset.”

***

You feel the weight of what Jiljoo divulged crushing you as you lie on your bed for hours, desperately trying not to envision Aola beaten and violated on the floor of the room were had come from. Fear claws at you as you try to plan for how to survive this. You eventually determine that you’ll have to use your fear to your advantage. It won’t be hard to convince Galcresh that you broke quickly if you go in wearing your fear openly.

As the light begins to turn golden, heavy footsteps approach and your heart clenches. You’ve been hearing the light patter of the women all afternoon, but these are different. You sit on the edge of the bed and do your best to shift your attire into something less revealing. You’d aim for modest, but you know that’s far from realistic with this gauzy excuse for a dress. You stand as two men enter your room.

“Master Galcresh would like to see you.” Says the leaner of the two. His eyes are pale and they stare through you as though you don’t even exist.

You stand and swallow the lump in your throat. Feeling that your tarot pouch is securely attached to your golden belt, you step towards the men, who turn and begin leading you back through the halls. Along the way you see a few other girls who all glance at you from the corners of their eyes, heads bowed. You do your best to hold your head high and let the fear wash over you. By the time you arrive, you are barely keeping your panic from overwhelming you. You keep reminding yourself that this will keep you safe and that you won’t go through the same thing Aola did. Hold the fear and break quickly.

“Lovely Oracle, how kind of you to join me.” Galcresh’s voice stirs up the rage from earlier and you let it flash across your face as you look at him. “My my…this won’t do at all. That expression is so off-putting. And I was so hoping that you would oblige my guests with a demonstration of your skills.”

“Such a shame.” You respond blandly, “And I was so hoping that you would oblige me with proper clothing and a lift home.”

Galcresh glances over to the larger of the two men who escorted you here. He hums thoughtfully before speaking, “What do you think? The foot? An oracle doesn’t need to stand and it’s easy enough to hide behind a table linen.”

The muscular man nods and walks to a cabinet while the leaner one approaches you with a fine chain. You start to pull away from him, but his hand shoots out and clamps around your ankle. Caught off balance, you stumble and land hard on your ass. You swear you can feel your tailbone bruising already. The lean man attaches the chain to the gold shackle and then hands the other end to Galcresh. You start to stand, but Galcresh yanks the chain, pulling your foot from under you and sending you back to the floor. Muscles has gotten a heavy looking, metal rod and you can feel the horror flash across your face. He’s going to fucking Tonya Harding your ass! Getting slapped around is one thing, but you were not prepared for this. You try to scramble away, animalistic instincts taking over, screaming at your body to run. You cry out as your ankle is yanked out from under you again, and then the metal rod connects with your foot. Every other sound drops away as you hear the bones in your foot snapping.

Someone is screaming.

Why is someone screaming?

Why is your face wet?

Your throat hurts.

Sound comes rushing back into your ears and you realize that you’re still screaming. Your vision is blurred by tears and an excruciating pain is exploding up your leg. Your body is screaming at you to run, you’re gasping for air, the scream dissolving into sobs that wrack your body.

“Now then,” you hear a calm voice say, “We were discussing your role at my little gathering tonight. I must say, Miss Oracle, I’m disappointed in you. I had hoped that you would appreciate the little trinket I left for you. I’m sure we wouldn’t have had to resort to such vulgar means if you had simply worn it. It would have been clear what an obedient woman you were.” Through the haze of pain and tears, you see him give you a pitying look, “But you forced me to do this. I’m sure you can see that I really had no other choice. I expect you to be cleaned up and at your table before the end of dinner. And my guests will _not_ see your foot.” He drops the chain and gestures to the two men to tidy up. “Are we very clear?” He looks down at you, smiling gently. It takes everything in you to nod in agreement.

The two men are suddenly at your sides, each grabbing an arm and hauling you up, half carrying, half dragging you back to your room. They drop you on your bed and leave. Shame washes over you as Jiljoo enters with two unfamiliar women. They appear to be much older than you and are carrying baskets and a tray. Jiljoo helps you sit up and drink something cool and bitter and offers you a bit of bread. The older women begin to examine your foot with gentle fingers. You cry out at the pain, but it begins to ease and your mind goes a little fuzzy.

“The tea helps with the pain. You’ll feel foggy for a little bit, but it’ll clear up before you have to return. You were supposed to break before this! What happened?” Jiljoo sounds horrified but you don’t have it in you to look at her. You keep your eyes closed as the tears slip down your face.

“I made a snarky comment at the f-first thing he said and he had them smash my foot. I thought there would be threats or I-I’d get slapped around.” Your hands are shaking and your voice quivers with anger, shame, and fear as they overwhelm you once again, “He broke my fucking foot!” you gasp with a sob.

Jiljoo caresses your face, wiping the tears away, and gently takes your trembling shoulders, guiding you back onto the pillow. “You need to rest. He broke your foot, but not your spirit. Your fire is dimmed, not extinguished. Sleep, Oracle. I’ll wake you in a few hours and help you dress for the party.” You close your eyes, tears still slipping down your cheeks, as she draws a blanket over you. The other two women are still cleaning and dressing your foot. When they finish, they fold the blanket down over your exposed feet and leave quietly. Jiljoo sits on a small stool in the corner, humming, lulling you into a restless sleep.

***

Peli has been pacing around Bay three-five all day. She didn’t get much sleep after sending the message to Mando and the lack of response has set her in a significantly more foul mood than usual. Even the droids have been staying out of sight as much as possible. A few of the locals have come by to ask for news only to be snapped at, but midway through the afternoon, a regular from the cantina stopped by with information. She’d heard a rumor that Fadon Galcresh was having a party that night to show off his latest acquisition and it was no secret that he had visited the cantina the day the Oracle disappeared. At this point, Peli could only wait and hope Mando would show. While she was inside slamming things around to get out some of her frustration, Peli heard a ship coming in and immediately bolted outside to watch the Razor Crest settle in the bay. The ramp hissed and began to lower, Mando already walking out before the ramp had touched the ground.

“Thank the Maker! It took you long enough!” Peli snaps at him, “You know I’ve been worried _sick_?”

“What happened?” Mando asks firmly, crossing his arms.

“The girlie got snatched! What the hell do you think happened?” Mando tilts his head at her in an irritated way as she continues, “I got a tip this afternoon that she’s probably with Fadon Galcresh.”

“The Spice Lord? Where? Show me.”

Peli pulls up the map and points to an empty piece of desert several hours travel away. “No one is quite sure exactly where he is, but his mansion is in this general area. You’ll have an easier time spotting it from the air. He’s having a party tonight so ships’ll be coming in from all over. He won’t notice one more.”

Mando looks down at Grogu, “You’re staying here.”

Grogu looks up at him, turns, and begins walking up the ramp.

“Hey. I said you’re staying here.” Mando says firmly, turning to face the stubborn child.

Grogu turns to look at Mando grumpily and continues walking up the ramp grumbling in argument. Mando watches him and then shakes his head and follows.

“You bring her back safe!” Peli shouts after him as the ramp closes. She watches him take off, huffs a sigh, and goes back inside.

***

Jiljoo wakes you and helps you dress for the party. You’re in white again, but the edges of the sheer cloth are embroidered with gold. She fastens the belt around your waist and you place the head chain over your hair. Jiljoo adjusts a couple of the tiny flowers, turning them to face outward, then looks at you with a hard, determined expression.

“You will get through this. Let me grab one of the other women and we’ll help you get to the room.” You nod and Jiljoo leaves, returning shortly in her own new attire, a red-haired human woman with her. You wince a little as they help you navigate through the halls to the room where the guests will enjoy the entertainment.

When you arrive, another of Galcresh’s goons points you to a small round table with a silky white cloth over it and a small stool for you to sit on. As Jiljoo and the other woman get you settled, the goon locks a chain to the shackle above your shattered foot. You give him a dirty look but keep your mouth shut. When he walks away, you mutter bitterly to the two women, “Because I’m clearly fit to run a fucking marathon.”

Jiljoo smirks and rolls her eyes. The red-haired woman hides a chuckle under a cough, but you see her eyes dancing merrily. They leave you, heading to a small stage where the red-haired woman begins tuning some kind of string instrument.

As the guests arrive, Jiljoo begins singing a haunting melody and you can’t help but stare, transfixed by her voice. You’re brought back to yourself by an unfamiliar man sitting in front of you and looking at you greedily. He’s lean and muscular with orange skin and horns protruding from his head almost like a crown. His face is covered in an intricate black tattoo. You shrink away from him a little, reminded of how exposed you are under his intense gaze. You remember what you’re supposed to be doing and snap your attention to your cards.

“Would you like your fortune read?” you ask, trying to sound demure.

“I suppose it will have to do, won’t it?” you glance at his face and see the carnal hunger in his eyes, “Galcresh doesn’t like people touching his belongings.”

You inwardly cringe at the idea of being property. You shuffle the cards and divide the deck into three piles. The idea of any of these vile men touching your cards disgusts you. “Hold your hand over the pile that speaks to you.” you direct him. He holds his hand over the right pile of cards and you pick them up, setting the other two aside. You carefully place the three cards, nine of pentacles reversed, the tower reversed, and the king of chalices. “The nine of pentacles indicates a history of low self-worth and of overworking yourself and not enjoying the fruits of your labor. The tower is showing that you are currently undergoing a great upheaval. You are clinging to old beliefs that no longer serve you and despite your resistance, the change will force its way into your life. The king of chalices shows your future. It is-“

You’re immediately cut off by sounds of fighting outside the room. Guests all over the room are turning and drawing weapons and the man in front of you jumps up, ready to fight. You snatch up the cards and tuck them into the pouch at your waist, frantically looking for some way to protect yourself. Several guests bolt for the exits as a figure in gleaming silver armor steps into the doorway of the room.

“Holy shit…” you gasp and then shout his name, “Mando!”

Mando turns to look at you briefly before chaos erupts and several guests start attacking him. As guns start firing…lasers?! You hit the floor as the other women scream and flee or hide. Holy shit. They have fucking laser guns. You’re shocked at what a competent fighter he is. As you watch, Mando is fighting off multiple attacks and the shots that hit him seem to bounce harmlessly off his armor. It doesn’t take long before he’s managed to kill or knock out any of the guests who didn’t flee. You suddenly realize that Galcresh is still seated, unharmed, but looking slightly worried. Mando approaches him, tall and menacing.

“You have something I want.” He says simply in that gravelly voice. Your heart races at the statement.

“I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement, Mando.” Your captor says, smiling feebly.

“The agreement is that you _give_ me the Oracle or I kill _you_ and _take_ her.” Your stomach flutters and you chide yourself, but you have to admit: there’s definitely something to be said for a knight in shining armor.

Galcresh looks around frantically but doesn’t see any of his guards. His eyes return to Mando, wide with fear. Mando grabs what appear to be handcuffs from the back of his waistband and drags Galcresh from his seat by the front of his shirt, throwing him to the ground face first, and wrenching his arms behind him, snapping the cuffs in place. Galcresh is a sniveling mess as Mando approaches you, taking off his cloak and holding it out to you, looking awkwardly up at the ceiling. You cover yourself and tie the cloak closed as best you can. The few women left in the room have started to approach and you see Jiljoo grab something from Galcresh’s pocket. She touches it to her neck and the shackle clicks open.

“Um…” you glance up at him, “I can’t get up.”

Mando looks at you, sees the chain and shoots it, shattering the links tethered to the floor. “Come on. We’re leaving.”

“Mando. I literally can’t get up. They broke my foot.” You pull the cloak up so he can see your swollen, bandaged foot. Jiljoo is at your side now, removing the shackle from your ankle as well. Mando looks down at your foot and stiffens. He turns back to Galcresh, who has started trying to stand, walks over to him, and slams his foot down onto one of Galcresh’s feet. You wince and look away as Galcresh lets loose a howl of pain.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Mando’s voice is commanding and rough.

Jiljoo has passed the key to the shackles to another woman, who is helping release everyone. Mando returns to you as you remain sitting awkwardly on the floor wrapped in his cloak. It feels rough and woolly and you can’t help but breathe in the smell of scratchy cloth, unable to identify quite what it reminds you of, but there’s something smokey about it, like the smell of a campfire. It reminds you of your first meeting.

“Thank you,” Mando says looking at Jiljoo. He bends down and easily scoops you up in a bridal carry as you hold the cloak in place around you. Your stomach flutters again, unused to being carried like this and you feel heat rising to your face. “I’m sure you can find something to do with him.”

Jiljoo grins devilishly at the other women, “I’m certain we can.” She places a hand on your covered knee and gives you a squeeze. “Thank you. Take care of yourself. And don’t worry about your foot. It should heal in a few weeks. It won’t be perfect, but at least you’ll be able to walk.” She gives you a sweet smile and then turns to Galcresh while Mando carries you out of this prison. Glancing back around Mando’s shoulder, you see a number of the women start to encircle Galcresh, who has begun begging in placating tone. Jiljoo has her hands on her hips and you’re sure that if you could see her eyes, they would be aflame at the prospect of revenge.

“Thank you, Mando.” You’re not sure what else to say, feeling awkward as he continues out of the building and towards his ship, silently. You really hope he can’t see your face in the dark. He shifts a little, adjusting your weight, and then pauses by the ship.

“I need to put you down.”

“Right! I’m sorry! I can-“ He cuts you off quietly as he lowers your feet, ensuring you’re only putting weight on the healthy one.

“I just need to reach the hatch release.”

“Oh.” You say lamely, feeling flustered. He hasn’t removed his arm from your back and reaches his other arm around to tap a button on his vambrace, triggering the hatch. The movement presses you into his chest a little and you can feel your body react to the gesture. He bends down and scoops your legs up again and you give a little squeak of surprise.

Once inside the ship, he hits a button on the wall, careful not to let your legs bump into anything. A door halfway up the wall slides open revealing a small space with blankets and two very large eyes peering out from a blanket heap. Mando sets you down in the doorway, letting your feet hang down, not quite reaching the floor.

“You can rest in here with the kid. We’ll be back in Mos Eisley soon.” He turns and heads up a ladder as the ramp closes, locking out the dangers of your temporary prison.

You untangle your arms from the cloak and scoot yourself all the way into the small sleeping space, leaning back against the wall. The child has emerged from his cocoon of bedding and is looking at you worriedly.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be okay. Mando took care of the bad man.” You smile and rest a hand on his head, surprised at the soft peach fuzz growing there. He coos a little and then walks out from under your touch and across the small space to your damaged foot. “Oh, hey, bud. I know you wanna help, but it’s fine. Look, they bandaged it up for me and everything.” You pull your knee towards your chest so he can see the bandage on your foot. The child reaches out and touches your foot gently, closing his eyes. You wince and cry out a little at the sudden pain and then it’s gone. You feel the ship start to move as you stare at your foot, no longer swollen and darkened with bruises. You tentatively put a little weight on it and are shocked to find the action painless. You turn to the child in astonishment, realizing that he has slumped over and is breathing heavily. His eyes are half shut and he looks pained. You quickly gather him up and slip out of the small bunk, rushing to the ladder you saw Mando ascend.

“Mando!” You shout in a panic, climbing the ladder, the child tucked tightly against you with your arm so both hands are free to grasp the ladder. “ _Mando!_ ”

As you reach the top of the ladder a door slides open and he’s suddenly right there, staring down at you, hand on his gun. He sees the child and, after a glance back to you, stiffly drops his hand from the gun and looks at the wall next to him. “What happened?”

“I don’t know! He was trying to look at my foot and I showed him and told him it was fine and he touched it and then it was better and he was like this!” The words tumble from your mouth frantically as you finish clambering into the small chamber and hold the child out to him. Mando moves to take the tiny bundle from your arms and continues to pointedly look away. You realize that the cloak is doing nothing to hide your nearly naked form and pull it around you again, face burning.

“He’ll be alright. Healing takes a lot out of him.”

You follow Mando into the cockpit and sit in the seat he gestures to. Careful not to let the cloak slip, you reach out to take the child again. Mando allows you to take him and then sits in the pilot seat and returns his focus to flying. You sit in near silence for the next hour, staring out the window ahead of you in wonder, rocking the sleeping child. At some point you started humming, but you don’t notice until you see Mando give a quick glance back at you. You stop, immediately self-conscious and worry that you’re irritating your rescuer, but he doesn’t say a word. The child is resting easily now. His breathing has evened out and you feel your own eyes burning and heavy with exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheel of Fortune represents good luck, karma, life cycles, destiny, a turning point.
> 
> I hope you all are enjoying this! Thanks for reading!


	5. Nine of Swords

When Mando lands his ship in Bay three-five, you can see Peli already there and eagerly jump up, suddenly feeling wide awake.

“Let me take the kid.” Mando says and takes the child from you. He heads down the ladder and you follow, careful to protect your modesty. By the time you get down, the ramp is lowering and the child has been tucked back into the small bunk.

You dash down the ramp to the awaiting Peli, who seems to be struggling to decide if she’s angry or relieved. She grabs your shoulders and looks you up and down in the yard’s flood lights.

“What happened to your foot?” She snaps upon seeing the bandage. She gives you a hard look.

“The guy who took me broke my foot, but th-“

Mando cuts you off, “There were healers. She’s fine.” You look at him, confused, but don’t elaborate.

“Peli, I need to go change. I can’t spend another second in this…ugh.” You make a sound of disgust. Peli lets go of your shoulders and steps aside, allowing you to pad into the building to change. Dropping the belt and head chain on the table along with the awful, gauzy cloth, you pull shorts and a t-shirt out of your pack. You’re relieved to be able to dress in your own clothes again. You pull out the extra pair of sandals that you had bought after your first week’s pay and carefully tucking your tarot deck back into your pack. You gather up Mando’s cloak and go outside to return it.

“Thank you.” You say handing over the cloak and looking where you think his eyes are. “For this, and for the rescue. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come for me.” You pause awkwardly, looking down at your feet.

“Are…would…” Mando seems incredibly uncomfortable and you notice him fidgeting with the cloak you had just handed him. “Could you help me? With the kid?”

“What do you mean?” You’re confused. “Do you need me to watch him for a bit?”

Mando continues sounding uncomfortable, “Just until I find a Jedi to train him.”

“Wait. Like, go with you? To space?” Your astonishment is clear in your voice but you respond eagerly. “I would love to! I mean, you literally saved my life. And I swear I could be useful! I can cook. And I can earn money! I’ve been really popular here!” You look over at Peli for confirmation. She’s fuming and you make a little pouty face at her, “Peli…”

“Don’t you 'Peli' me! We had an agreement! I help you get set up and you pay me back for it!” You’d learned quickly enough that Peli hates to feel like she’s losing money. You give her a grin and start to walk towards the building, “Hey! Don’t you walk away from me!”

You disappear inside and grab the gold accessories off the table. You trot back out to Peli and Mando with them held behind your back. In your brief absence, Peli has rounded on Mando and is listing off an assortment of expenses, many of which you’ve already repaid. You hold the gold belt up and let it sway in front of her face. Peli’s mouth gapes as she stops and stares, first at it, then you.

“That asshole had me dressed like an expensive whore. I want absolutely _nothing_ to do with the things he made me wear.” You drop the belt into her hands and hold out the head chain as well. “I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone who wants these for a very generous price. Certainly more than I made this month all together! More than a year’s worth of your cut from my earnings.” You have a feeling Peli stopped listening. She’s carefully examining the pieces.

“Fine.” She says dismissively, “Get out of here! You’re more trouble than your worth, anyway!” She gives you side eye and you smile at her, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. She scoffs, brushing you away, and you run inside feeling giddy.

You grab your pack and quickly stuff your remaining outfits inside. You’re disappointed to have lost the outfit you were wearing the day you got abducted, but, you admit a bit reluctantly, it would be tainted with the memory of that night forever. You’re just glad it wasn’t longer. When you come out with your pack, you glance up at Mando.

“Um…Could I have some time to go visit Cham? I want to say goodbye. I know it’s not forever but I’d feel terrible leaving without saying anything after he’s been so kind.” You smile gratefully when he nods his reply.

“Leave your pack on the ramp.”

You drop your bag on the ramp and turn towards the archway and then stop, suddenly feeling your chest ache and your stomach churn. You turn and look back at Mando, “Do…do you mind coming with me? I’m not really…keen on walking around alone in the dark right now…”

Without responding, he walks towards you, telling Peli over his shoulder, “The kid is sleeping. He should be fine.”

“I know how to handle that little womprat! You worry about not letting her get grabbed again.” She says with a toss of her head in your direction.

You and Mando exit the yard and you lead the way to Cham’s home. The light is still on and you knock. When he answers, Cham cries out in joyful surprise, pulling you into a tight hug. Before you can even react, he pushes you away by your shoulders, looking you up and down, turning you this way and that in the light spilling through the doorway, examining you for injuries.

“Little Oracle! What happened? Was it Galcresh?” he asks with a scowl before spying Mando behind you, “Did you find her? Come in! Come in!” You can’t help but smile at how he’s fawning over you like a mother hen.

“I’m okay, Cham. Mando rescued me. I wanted to come say goodbye though. I’m going to be travelling with Mando for a while. I’m not really sure how long…” you glance as your stoic guard, “but I couldn’t just disappear without letting you know I was okay.”

Cham looks at Mando and then nods at you. “You’re in safe hands. Mandalorians are notoriously strong fighters.” He takes your hand, leading you over to his kitchen, “But I won’t let you leave until you show me how you made those muja berry tarts.”

You glance at Mando, who is standing stock still, arms crossed. You wish you could see his face. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking. For all you know he’s reconsidering bringing you along. But he makes no motion to stop you, so you let Cham pull you into the kitchen. The two of you chat while you show him how you make the crust and mix the fruit and spices. You talk about cooking with your family and he tells you more about his children and what they’ve been doing since leaving home. The tarts come together quickly and once they’re cooking you remind Cham you have to get going.

“You know what they look like when they’re done. I can’t make Mando wait around for me all night.”

Cham looks at Mando, “You’re going to leave without letting me pack some of these tarts for my little Oracle?”

“Cham.” You give him a look.

“We can wait.” You turn to look at Mando in surprise.

“It’s okay! Really! I’m sure you have a lot to do…” You finish a bit weakly, not actually sure what bounty hunting looks like here.

“We can wait.” He repeats, settling himself against the wall, arms still crossed. Cham looks satisfied and you can’t help but smile gratefully at Mando.

“I promise you won’t regret it.”

***

You’re finally on your way back to Bay three-five with a basket of the little tarts. Cham tried to send you with two trays, but you were able to talk him down to six tarts. It’s a quiet night and you’re starting to feel weariness from earlier return. Mando is silent next to you as you sneak a peek up at him from the corner of your eye. You don’t know what it is about him, but you like him. You’ve heard bits of rumors and tales of Mandalorians while working at the cantina and Cham has told you a little about them, but as menacing as people make them out to be, you don’t feel intimidated by him. You’ve seen him fight, but while it was violent, it wasn’t frightening. The image of him stiffening at the sight of your broken foot drifts into your thoughts and your heart flutters. You push the thought away, but another replaces it, Mando stumbling through his request for your help. Now you’re just being dramatic, you think, scolding yourself. There’s no reason to get all giddy just because a guy rescues you and takes revenge for you and carries you gently out of a prison and gets adorably awkward talking to you- You shake your head, silently screaming. You are _not_ a teenage girl! You will not fall prey to the childish crush on any man that looks your way. You will _not_. You glance at Mando again and realize that he’s staring at you. Mortified, you return your eyes to the ground as you steadily approach Bay three-five.

While you’re saying your final goodbyes to Peli, Mando grabs your pack from the ramp, lifting it with ease, and brings it into the hold. With a wave and a smile to Peli, you follow Mando into the hold and stand a little awkwardly in the middle of the space. He hangs your bag on a hook on the wall among several other containers of various kinds then passes you to hit a button, closing the ramp.

“You should get some rest.” He walks you through a brief tour of the hold. “This opens the bunk. Do not touch any other buttons. Especially there,” he gestures to a cabinet, “and there.” He gestures to something that looks like a very narrow shower stall. “If you need to use the privy, it’s there. The light comes on automatically. This operates the door.” He points to a button on the outside of the small room. “I’ll be in the cockpit.” With that, he ascends the ladder and disappears.

You return to the bunk and press the button for the door and crawl inside. Tugging the blankets up to your chin, you try to get comfortable on the hard floor of the bunk. You’re unconvinced that you’ll actually be able to get some rest. Despite this, your eyes are heavy and the quiet rumble of the engines quickly lulls you to sleep. When you finally wake, your back is stiff from the hard floor, but you’re feeling significantly more refreshed. You’re also starving. You’re not sure how much time has passed, but it has definitely been quite a while since your last meal. The child is still asleep so you quietly climb out of the bunk and shut the door. It’s freezing on the ship. It suddenly makes sense why Mando wears those heavy clothes. You stretch to loosen your back and dig through your bag, careful not to disturb the crates and items around it, and pull out a light hoodie and long pants. Heading to the bathroom, you change quickly and splash some water on your face, using a small towel you find to dry off. You tuck the shorts back into your bag and retrieve a couple of tarts from the basket Cham gave you. Glancing at the ladder, you realize that you’re going to have to be creative if you expect to get up there one handed. You think you can manage if you use the first rung to boost you up to grab as high as possible with your free hand. You push off and catch the rung, holding yourself steady as you climb upwards. You’re near the top, but you’ve gotten your feet as high as they can comfortably go with your hand still on the rung you initially grabbed. You look around and realize that you won’t be getting any further. You thought you could brace your back in the opening to climb out, but you’re not high up enough for that.

“Shit. Huh.” As you’re trying to figure out what to do next, the door to the cockpit slides open and Mando stares down at you through the manhole. You grin up at him sheepishly, holding up the hand with the tarts. “Tart?”

He takes the tarts that you’ve thrust up through the manhole and steps back as you clamber up into the hall space, holding them back out for you to take back once you’re up.

“I brought one for you. I dunno if you’ve eaten yet, but I was starving so I figured I’d bring an extra for you.” You grab one of the tarts. “I’ll wait here while you eat. Just open the door when you’re done.” You give him a smile and brace yourself against the wall so you can slide down into a sit.

“Vor’e.” He says shifting awkwardly, watching you get comfortable on the floor, before returning to the cockpit. You’re not sure what he said and try to remember to ask him about it, but the first bite of tart erases the thought from your mind.

The tart is small, the size of a hand pie, but you make it last. You’re only halfway through when the door slides open and you catch Mando returning to the pilot seat. You rise and join him, forgetting about the tart as you stare out the windshield in wonder.

“Where are we?!” You tear your eyes away from the streaking lights to look at Mando.

“Hyperspace.” He elaborates when he sees you staring at him, confused. “We’re going faster than lightspeed. It’s how we travel between distant planets.”

You stare at him then back out the window. “So we’re in space. Going faster than light.”

“’Lek.”

“What? Wait! You said something earlier, too!” You suddenly remember the unfamiliar word. “What did you say?”

“I was just…agreeing.”

“No but before! I handed you the tart and you said something. Oh! How was it? Did you like it? They were really popular at the cantina! Do you have a way to cook here? You didn’t mention a kitchen. Galley? I can cook for you and the kid! I’ve been getting familiar with some of the ingredients you have here! There? Anyway, I can definitely make myself useful around here! What sort of stuff do you need me to help with?”

The helmeted head turns to face you and you realize that you’ve been rattling off questions without letting him answer.

“Shit! Sorry! Sometimes I can’t keep up with my brain…” you explain, apologetically.

“It was good. Sweet.” He replies softly, his voice a quiet rumble. “Sometimes…” he pauses and glances down before restarting his sentence, “It was Mando’a. I just need sleep.” He sighs.

“You know…you can go lie down. I promise I won’t touch anything.” You’re hesitant to make the suggestion, but you also know that you were taking over his bed for who knows how long. “Plus, if I get tired, I can tuck myself into a corner in my sleeping bag.”

“Yeah…” he hits a few buttons and stands, “An alarm will go off when we’re close. You’ll probably be warmer up here.”

You watch him go, his head disappearing through the manhole and then look around the small space. There are buttons everywhere and part of you is itching to start pressing them. You tuck your hands into your pockets and move through the space, looking at the strange markings on the various switches and levers. You notice one lever has exposed threads at the top, as though something is supposed to screw onto it. There are screens with strange markings, grids, and various other bits of unfamiliar technology. It seems like everything is electronic in this universe. You haven’t seen much in the way of paper the entire time you’ve been here. Once you’ve explored the cockpit, you start to feel suffocated by the silence of the space. You can’t remember the last time you sat in complete silence. Even when you were hiking, there were the sheep and the occasional plane overhead. You tap next to the door, anticipating that it opened the same way as the bunk. The door slides open and you slip down the ladder and retrieve your phone, earbuds, external battery, and a pen and notebook from your pack.

Once you’re back in the cockpit and seated comfortably, you unlock your phone and start scrolling through your music as you pop the earbuds in. They chirp as they pair with the phone and you notice that your phone battery is low. Plugging it into the battery, you hit play on your “chill” playlist and set it to the side. You’d been doing some journaling throughout your hike and over the past month on Tatooine and you start to document the recent events. You pause when you get to the abduction. Your heart clenches. You can’t bring yourself to write about it in the same detail that you write every other event and only make notes about the women you met and Mando coming to get you. Resting your hand on the open page, you lean back in the seat and close your eyes, letting the music wash over you and clear away the awful memory. You start to quietly sing along and eventually find yourself drifting off to sleep again.

***

You open your eyes and feel your stomach drop. The bed, the walls, the mannequin head with the jewelry. You start to shake, gasping for breath, feeling like all the oxygen has left the room. You bolt upright, pulling your knees to your chest, and then cry out in pain. Your foot. It’s still shattered. Mando. The rescue. The child healing you. It was all a dream.

“What’s wrong, my little pet? Bad dream?” Your eyes snap to the corner of the room where Galcresh sits on a plush throne. Smiling at you with that sickening smirk.

Your eyes grow wide in horror and fear and you let out a desperate, pathetic moan. “Noooo…” You can feel the tears welling in your eyes and that miserable howl escapes past your lips again, raw and hollow, “Noooooo!”

And then you see it, sitting on the floor, Galcresh propping a foot on it leisurely. Mando’s helmet. He did come. And Galcresh crushed him. Like your foot. Like Aola’s soul. Like everything else that stepped in his way. The tears spill from your eyes.

You let out a gut-wrenching scream of a sob.

Strong hands have your shoulders and you feel Galcresh shaking you, trying to shut you up. You lash out, slamming one hand painfully against solid metal while the other meets soft cloth. Your foot throbs as it makes contact with something solid and you hear Galcresh let out of hiss. Through a blur of tears, you see the shine of metal armor. And the hands release their grip.

“Hey. Hey! Stop!” A firm baritone cracks through your panic and you pull yourself into a huddle, trying to get a bearing on your surroundings. That rough voice calls your name and you use the heel of your palm to wipe your eyes, gasping for breath. It’s dark. There’s a blizzard of stars around you, reflecting off Mando’s gleaming helm. His arms are spread, hands open as if he’s ready to catch you. As you take deep, steadying breaths, he kneels down before you and gently places his hands on your upper arms.

“You’re okay. You’re on the Razor Crest. You’re safe.” Mando’s gentle tone helps to clear the panic flooding your body and you feel a little queasy as the adrenaline subsides.

“I’m sorry. I-“

“Don’t apologize. It’s alright. Do you…” he suddenly sounds unsure, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You search the blackness of the visor, but the only eyes you see are your own, puffy and wet, staring back at you. “It was just…I…” You pause, trying to form a coherent thought and determine how much to share. “It was a dream. I had a dream about…him.” Even thinking about saying his name makes you want to gag.

“You’re never going to see him again. I’ll make sure of it.” He says it so tenderly that you can’t help but believe him.

“Okay.” You wipe your face and sniff, trying, and failing, to recover some amount of dignity. “I’m sorry...although, I’m probably more hurt than you.” You let out a weak laugh, but your face brightens a little when you hear a huff of laughter come from the helmet. You can’t help but wonder what Mando’s smile looks like. You look awkwardly at your hands as he stands, releasing your arms and giving you a gentle pat on the shoulder. It suddenly occurs to you that you had fallen asleep listening to music and that you now only feel one earbud in. Looking around you notice your notebook on the floor. You grab it then try to locate the other earbud.

“Crap…Hey, Mando? Do you see a pen anywhere? Or my other earbud?” You hold it up for him to see, scanning the floor around you. The space isn’t terribly large so it can’t have gone far. You spot the pen under the console and drop to your knees to get it as Mando steps out of your way. Once you’ve retrieved the pen, you extract yourself from under the console. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Mando with his head tilted thoughtfully, watching you before he quickly looks away.

“Is this it?” he asks, reaching towards you and plucking something out of the folds of your collar. He holds up the missing earbud.

You feel your face burning as you suddenly realize that you may have just caught him staring at your ass, but he turns and sits once you’ve accepted the object. You drop into your seat again and start to fumble with the battery and phone. They’re both dead. So are the earbuds. You heave a sigh and start to tuck them into your pockets.

“What’s wrong?”

You glance up and realize that Mando has turned to look at you. “Oh! Nothing. My phone died.” You hold it up, screen dark and lifeless. “And my battery. And my headphones.” You shrug, “It was bound to happen eventually. I was lucky my battery pack would charge on Tatooine, but I didn’t actually charge it before…” You trail off remembering that you had been planning on asking Peli to charge it while you were at work but hadn’t been able to because of the abduction. “Anyway, I accidentally drained the battery. I left it running when I fell asleep. Guess I’ll have to wait for the next planet and hope their sun will charge it!” You suddenly realize you don’t actually know where he’s going. “We are going to a planet…right?”

“Yes. Nevarro. I need to pick up some jobs. I’m low on credits.” Mando doesn’t look at you, but his rough voice sounds casual. “We’re stopping just long enough to pick up a couple of pucks.”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s talking about, but you figure you’ll find out when you get there. You quietly excuse yourself and head down to the cargo hold to put everything back in your pack. You pause for a moment, then pull out your tarot cards. You shuffle them, wondering what’s in store, and draw a card: 3 of pentacles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Nine of Swords represents anxiety, worry, fear, depression, and nightmares.


	6. Three of Pentacles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all are in for a treat! I realized that I had accidentally written a 17 page chapter and my wonderful beta reader, spookyactionatadistance, figured out a good place to break it. So now you get a second chapter much sooner than expected! (Also, check out her fantastic works!!)

The kid has finally woken up and was incredibly eager to have a tart. Unfortunately he’s so hungry that, while you have your back turned, he somehow gets two more.

“How did you manage that?!” You don’t even try to hide the shock in your voice as you stare down into those huge eyes. They look back at you innocently as he takes another bite leaving sticky filling and crumbs on his cheeks. “You, little mister, are trouble.” You loop your arm through the basket and haul yourself up to the cockpit. The door is still open and you see that the view has changed. Everything is vast and dark, pinpricks of light all around. The ship must have dropped out of hyperspace.

“Hey Mando.” He doesn’t look at you as you come up next to him. You open the basket and tilt it towards him. “That little troublemaker stole two more after he finished the one I gave him. I figured I’d offer you the last one.”

That gets his attention.

“Grogu.” He rumbles softly.

“I still don’t speak Mando.” You say playfully, giving him a little smirk.

“His name. It’s Grogu. And it’s Mando’a, not Mando.” He corrects you gently. “You have it. I don’t need to eat.”

You raise an eyebrow at him and say in a mock scold, “Mando. I have a backpack full of food. This isn’t life or death. Eat the friggin’ tart. It’s a treat!”

He glances up at your face then back to the basket, silently picking up the tart. You turn to go, but halt at his sudden, “Wait.” You look back at him with questioning eyes. You know he can’t eat it with you in the room. He breaks the tart in half and holds part out to you. “It’s a treat.” He says plainly.

You grin and take the offered half, wiping a bit of filling off his glove with a finger and popping it in your mouth. You close your eyes and hum blissfully at the taste. “Thanks!” you say, grinning again and turning to leave, noticing that his now empty hand is balled into a fist. You close the door as you leave and then drop into a squat and bury your face in your knees.

 _What the fuck did you just do?! Holy shit!_ You silently berate yourself. _Jesus fucking Christ, girl! What the actual fuck! You don’t even know if he’s a fucking human! FUCK!_

You’re so busy screaming in your own head, that you don’t notice the deep groan coming from behind the door at your back.

***

You spend the next hour playing with Grogu. You were able to find a cloth to clean him up after he made a mess of himself with the tarts. Now he’s completely focused on a silver ball and when you notice the hole in the bottom, you suddenly remember the threaded lever.

“Grogu!” He looks up at you as you give him a conspiratorial grin, “Did you steal that from the cockpit?”

He gives a little grunt and pulls the ball to his chest, making you burst into laughter. He responds with a shy smile and then returns his focus to the ball. You pull out your tarot cards and start shuffling them. This draws Grogu’s attention.

“Do you want to pick one?”

Grogu reaches towards the deck and you fan the cards towards him. He reaches out and pulls one from the left side of the fan and looks at it. You gently take his hand and turn it slightly so you can see his card.

“That’s the knave of swords. It’s all about curiosity and a thirst for knowledge.” You release his hand. “You’re supposed to pick the one that calls out to you. Here.” You take the card back, shuffle the deck and divide it into three piles. “Which pile do you want?”

Grogu reaches out to the middle pile and you flip over the top card, revealing the knave of swords. You stare at it and then flip it over again and reshuffle the cards. You fan them out again and offer them out to Grogu. This time he takes a card just to the right of middle. He looks at you with those huge eyes as he holds the knave of swords out to you.

“Huh.” You take the card from him and give him a little smile. “Looks like you found your card. This card says that you’re bursting with new ideas and you’re eager to learn new things. You’re also learning new ways to communicate and express yourself. You certainly fit the curiosity portion of that, you little troublemaker!” You give his head a little rub and he giggles. “Do you want to see mine?”

You shuffle the cards again, focusing your thoughts on yourself. When you flip over the top card, it reveals The Empress. You sigh, a mix of frustration, confusion, and resignation. “Every time. She represents everything that is femininity: beauty, nature, nurturing and abundance, grace… Not quite how I’d describe myself, but they must know something I don’t. At least I have the nurturing thing down!” You scoop Grogu up to give him a snuggle and he coos. “Now let’s go visit Mando.” You say tucking your cards away.

You stand and head up to the cockpit. You’re starting to get the hang of navigating the ladder. The door to the cockpit is closed, so you knock. When you don’t get a response, you call out.

“Mando? Is it okay to come in?”

The door slides open and you watch Mando return to his seat. You walk in and when you go to sit, you notice that your notebook and pen have been set neatly on the seat. You pick them up and settle down with Grogu in your lap.

Leaning forward to get a better view of the planet you’re approaching, you ask, “Is that Nev…” You trail off trying to remember the name he told you earlier.

“Nevarro. Yes.”

“Oh! I came up to ask you! Does Grogu have a schedule? Like, when he eats and naps and whatnot?” At his name, Grogu looks up at you curiously and grunts. You hear a soft chuckle from Mando at this.

“He doesn’t really have a routine.” Mando says in that warm, rumbling baritone. “And you don’t need to knock.”

“I don’t want to just bust in on you. And what do you mean no routine? When does he eat?” You look at Mando incredulously. You start wondering how long Mando has been keeping Grogu like this.

“He eats when I feed him. And when he’s hungry.” He pauses, “That’s been a…problem.” Mando doesn’t offer an explanation.

“What do you mean ‘a problem’?”

“He eats things that…he shouldn’t.” Mando is pointedly avoiding your critical stare.

“Mando! What are you letting him eat?!” You’re horrified at the vagueness of his statements. When he doesn’t respond you take a firmer, demanding tone. “Mando. Tell me what you’ve been letting him eat.”

The Mandalorian turns to stare at you and you meet the blankness of the helmet with your own fierce stare. He looks away and you feel a thrill of victory. When he responds, Mando sounds both irritated and exasperated. “There were frogs. And the frog lady’s eggs. And ice spiders.”

A horrified look appears on your face and you look from him to the little child in your lap. You can’t help raising your voice and scolding him like a child. “Oh hell no! Spiders?! Seriously?! And your passenger’s _eggs_?! Mando! You can’t just _not_ feed him and let him eat random shit he finds!” You let out an exasperated sigh and rub your hands over your face. “You _really_ needed a nanny.”

“Why do you think you’re here?” The sharp tone catches you off guard and you both sit in silence.

After several minutes, you break the silence. “I’m sorry. You probably don’t have a lot of experience with babies, do you? I’m sure you’re doing the best you can.” Mando doesn’t respond so you continue, “Did you have any siblings?”

Mando is silent for a while and you sit quietly, waiting. He heaves a sigh before responding, “No. I was a foundling, raised by the Children of the Watch.”

You both fall silent again and Mando sets the ship- _what had he called it? Razor Crest?_ -down just outside of the city.

“I need to go to the cantina. Do you have any credits? You’re going to need warmer clothes. And provisions if you plan on cooking for the kid.” He says this as he begins heading out of the cockpit and you stand to follow. “I can take you shopping after I meet with Karga.”

“I have a few credits saved, but if you let me come to the cantina, I’m sure I can make more fairly quickly!” You follow him down the ladder and put Grogu down to rummage through your bag for the few credits you saved. You would have been set if you hadn’t lost the entire bag of them when you got snatched. You push the awful thought out of your head and turn to Mando, who is staring at you silently. “I made a ton at the cantina back on Tatooine! A few readings would be more than enough!”

“I don’t-“

“Just let me show you, Mando! I really can be helpful! I can do my whole ‘oracle’ thing! It’s hot here right? Hang on!” You excitedly dig through your pack and pull out the green pants and scarf and your pink shirt. Dashing into the bathroom, you quickly change and stuff your previous outfit back into your pack. “See? I mean, I don’t have the makeup or jewelry, but that’s fine. I have my cards and that’s the important part!

Mando looks at you and sighs, the chin of his helmet dropping to his chest in resignation. He doesn’t argue as you scoop up Grogu and follow him down the lowering ramp. You gasp a little as the sweltering, dry air hits your lungs, and squint into the bright day. You follow Mando into the city, careful not to fall behind while surveying the various stalls and shops in fascination.

“How do you plan on getting people to talk to you?” Mando asks over his shoulder.

You trot up next to him. “I…I dunno. I can offer a reading to someone and then word of mouth should bring people to me.” You shrug. “That’s how I did it on Tatooine.”

As you follow him towards the door of a cantina, Mando turns to you. “Just…Let me talk to Karga. You can do your ‘oracle thing’ when I’m done. Don’t talk to Guild members without me. Don’t trust them.”

You shrug again. “Okay. So I shouldn’t trust you?” You can’t help teasing him and you can almost feel the eye roll you’re certain he gives you in response.

The cantina is clean and not nearly as crowded as the one on Tatooine. You follow Mando over to a table occupied by a middle-aged man with dark skin. He smiles amiably as Mando sits and motions you to join him.

“Mando! Good to see you! It’s been a while.” The man gives you a radiant smile, “And who is this lovely vision? Don’t tell me you’ve taken on-“

“Who do you have for me?” Mando cuts the man off abruptly, ignoring the niceties and getting straight to business in a gruff tone you haven’t heard before.

The man ignores Mando and holds his hand out to you. “Greef Karga. A pleasure.”

You glance at Mando, noticing him stiffen, before taking the offered hand. “I’m-“ You suddenly realize the opportunity and flash Karga your most demure smile. “I’m an oracle. Very nice to meet you.”

Karga looks at Mando with surprise. “You’ve got an oracle?” Turning back to you, he says, “And how exactly do you divine?” He’s clearly interested and you can’t help but feel smug for having seized this opportunity.

“I would be happy to demonstrate my skills for you.” You let yourself slip fully into the ‘Oracle’ character that you perfected on Tatooine. Locals were familiar with you so you didn’t feel the need to put on a show for them, but when outsiders dropped by, you liked to create a persona to match their expectations. Mando hasn’t moved, but you can almost feel him glaring at you through that helmet. “I’d hate to interrupt your business, though. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” Doe-eyed, you look from Karga to Mando, fighting to keep your face composed despite your glee at reeling Karga in.

“I’ll tell you what, Mando,” Karga says looking back at your stiff companion, “If she’s the real thing, I’ll give you your pick.” He gives you another smile, “What do you think?”

You look to Mando who gestures with his head for you to do the reading. You pull out your cards and shuffle them before placing them in the center of the table. “Please cut the deck.” Karga does and you retrieve the stacks, placing the bottom half on top. You flip over the first card and begin to explain.

“The first card is your past. Justice represents truth and law. You upheld order and kept those below you in line. You were held accountable for your decisions and often had to defend your decisions, accepting the consequences of them. However, you regret some of the decisions you made.” You pause, unsure where that last part came from, but your gut tells you it’s right. Karga’s eyes harden when you look at him, affirming your intuition. You place the next card, explaining, “This is your present. Because the five of chalices is reversed, it tells that you have suffered a setback. Something is in your path, preventing you from moving forward. You need to acknowledge the mistakes of your past and seek forgiveness for them. This is a time to let go of things that no longer serve you emotionally, and to open yourself to new opportunities.” You notice Karga looking at Mando, who has turned to look at you. You try not to let the weight of his gaze get to you as you turn the third card and smile, “Ah…your future is held in the seven of pentacles. It shows you the value of investing in your future. You must plan for your goal and put in the time and energy now so that you can reap the rewards when the time comes. You may become frustrated with slow results, but patience will reward you in the end.” You give Karga a soft smile and wait.

“Not bad. Mando told you about me, then?” You can see the hint of suspicion in his eyes and you look at him in genuine confusion.

“What? No. He only said he was coming here to meet Karga and get pucks. I still don’t actually know what that means.” You look to Mando for clarification, suddenly worried that you’ve overstepped some boundary.

“She doesn’t know anything. Can’t even read.” Mando’s voice betrays nothing, but you’re incensed.

“I can too read!” You snap glaring up at him. “I just can’t read whatever the fuck everything you have is written in!” The expressionless helmet turns to you but says nothing.

Karga throws his hands up defensively, “Woah! Okay! The demure little Oracle has teeth!” he says with a chuckle. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to trust Mando’s word.”

“He’s not exactly chatty, either.” You say throwing another dirty look in the Mandalorian’s direction. Movement in your lap draws your attention down to Grogu, who had put a hand on your arm and is looking up at you inquisitively. You pull a silly face at him and boop his nose before looking back at Karga. “I really don’t know anything about you. I just interpret the cards.”

“You know, Mando,” Karga says thoughtfully, “You’ve got quite the little intelligence operation. You get the pucks, she gets the info, and you both walk away with heavy pockets.”

Mando just grunts.

Karga pulls several small, circular objects out and places them on the table. They look like thick poker chips and you guess these are the “pucks” they’ve been referring to. He pushes one forward. “If you’re up for a challenge, I’ve got this one. It’s several parsecs away but the money is good. I’ve sent a few others after him, but no one’s managed to bring him in. I’m sure with an Oracle on your side, you’ll be able to manage.” He gives you a wink.

“I’ll take it, and these.” Mando says indicating two other pucks.

Karga slides them over to him as well as three small rectangles with a pair of wires extending out the top and meeting at the end and tucks the remaining pucks away. “Can I interest you and the lady in a drink?”

Mando doesn’t wait for you to respond. “She’d like to do a few readings. She needs credits to get some supplies before we leave.” You hear the question he doesn’t ask, and Karga answers it.

“Of course. There’s an empty booth there for you to use. I can let people know you’re available.” He gestures and offers you a kind smile. “I trust you know to use discretion.”

You nod and stand, heading towards the booth he indicated, with Mando close behind.

***

You can’t help the bounce in your step as you and Mando explore the venders, looking for provisions and warm clothing. You knew you could do well, but you didn’t expect to do _this_ well. Clearly Mando didn’t either. Occasionally, you catch him looking at you and shaking his head as though in disbelief. You’ve been carrying Grogu in your arms but you’re starting to feel the weight of him.

“Hey Mando, is there a better way to carry him?” You think back to the pouch Mando had been carrying him in when you first met them. “Other than a bag?”

“We can find something.” He’s in a much better mood than when you met with Karga. A few times, he holds a hand behind you, guiding you without actually touching you.

You’re able to find everything that you need, including a baby sling and some cooking utensils. Mando points out the clothing items you’ll need, and you gather some familiar ingredients. Mando explained the cooking set up that you’ll be able to use on the Razor Crest. It’s only a single burner, but it’s enough to work with. You stock up on things that will last as Mando has also made it clear that he has no way to preserve food.

As you’re heading back to the Razor Crest, both of you laden with supplies and Grogu tucked into the sling on your back, Mando asks you about your reading. “How did you know about Karga?”

You shrug, glancing over at him, “I didn’t. I just read the cards and say what comes to mind. It felt right that he had regrets so I said it. Why?”

Mando just responds with a thoughtful hum and taps the ramp release.

“Why?” You ask again, more insistently.

“It was just…accurate.” Mando pauses at the top of the ramp and looks back at you. “You talk about it like it’s just an act.”

This gives you pause. “I mean…it’s not…” You struggled to think of the best way to explain it, “It’s not a science, right? It’s all up to interpretation. You place the cards and interpret the meaning from them. It’s not like…” you suddenly remember the uncanny way Grogu pulled the same card repeatedly and frown. _It’s not a science but it’s not like the cards are magic. They just offer something to meditate on…right?_ Frowning, you finish your thought, “It’s not like they’re magic.”

He gives a shrug and walks into the hold, storing the supplies he carried various bins and cases. You follow him in and start putting your new clothes into your pack, leaving the other supplies nearby, unsure where they belong.

“You can store your things here.” Mando says indicating an open, empty cabinet.

You’re startled by the offer but start pulling clothes and the few toiletries out of your pack and tuck them into the space. Suddenly you remember your battery pack.

“When are we leaving?” You question Mando abruptly.

“Now.” He punches a button on the wall and the ramp rises, sealing you both in the dark hold.

You can’t help but feel a little frustrated with yourself for forgetting to bring your battery pack with you. It was a sunny day and, with any luck, you would have been able to charge your battery a little. You can’t really help that, though, so you figure you might as well focus on what you can do. 

***

Mando is piloting you to who knows where and the hold is already starting to cool, so you grab the clothes you had changed out of before heading to town and change quickly, putting away the oracle outfit in the space Mando had set aside for you. You trade the sandals for sneakers and pop Grogu in the sling around your chest.

“Let’s go, Peanut.” It’s significantly easier to climb up the ladder now that you have both hands free. “Hey, Mando. What’s the plan?” you ask entering the cockpit and sitting in what you’ve now deemed ‘your’ chair to his right. Mando glances over to you then returns his attention to the controls in front of him.

“First bounty’s last known location was Endor. You and the kid will stay here and lock down the ship.”

“And you’ll…” you probe.

“Hunt down the bounty and bring him back.”

“How long will that be?” You hadn’t realized that caring for Grogu would mean being on the ship and nowhere else.

“Don’t know.”

You stare at him with irritation. “So, this little Peanut and I will just chill here for God knows how long with the doors locked and just…wait.”

“Yes.”

You heave a sigh. “Okay. What kind of planet is it? Will we be safe? What if…” you trail off, thinking about the hands grabbing you and binding your wrists. You suck in a deep breath and close your eyes, trying to calm your suddenly racing heart. Your eyes startle open when you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder. Mando’s gentle baritone hums through the helmet.

“You’ll be safe. Nothing will be able to breach the doors once you engage ground security protocols. I told you before: I’ll make sure you never see him again.” Mando is leaning towards you from his seat and you can feel his eyes boring into you. You nod silently, hugging the child to you until he starts to squirm in discomfort. You release him and Mando gives your shoulder a light squeeze before turning back to the console.

You’re surprised at the tenderness of the gesture. This man who instills fear in others, who seems ready for a fight at any moment. This man who is all sharp edges and hard steel, somehow continues to show you softness, to make you feel safe and secure. You find yourself staring at him, remembering how gently he carried you after rescuing you from Galcresh, the way he had averted his eyes while giving you his cloak, the casual way he had waited when Cham had insisted on you staying to bake. It was completely at odds with that hard warrior who had crushed Galcresh’s foot with one swift movement. You suddenly realize that Mando is watching you, head tilted in a silent question. You look out the window ahead of you willing your face not to burn with the embarrassment of being caught. You spend some time sitting there and eventually decide to pull out your journal. You open it, and then pause, realizing that you haven’t seen a single Latin letter the entire time you’ve been in this world. You flip to the front page, where your name and contact info are inscribed.

“Hey, Mando? Do you know what this says?” You hold the book out to him.

Glancing over, he confirms what you suspect, “No.”

“None of it? Nothing about this makes sense to you?” you press.

He looks at the page and then at you, “No. Why?”

You give a coy little smirk, more to yourself than to him, “No reason.” When he continues to stare at you, you elaborate, “I was just wondering how private this will be.”

Mando stiffens ever so slightly and says with a hint of irritation, “I have no interest in your diary.”

“Great!” As he turns away, you look for somewhere to prop your feet, and see nothing but panel upon panel of buttons and switches. “Alright, Peanut. You get the seat all to yourself.” You plop Grogu on the seat and fold the sling on the floor against the wall, settling onto it and tucking your knees up as a makeshift table. You begin writing out your observations of Mando and your brief visit to Nevarro and eventually get absorbed in describing the details of everything. As you’re describing the lava flows that you saw as you left the planet, you feel a warm body press up against you. You realize that Grogu has come to join you, trying to tuck himself under your arm. It occurs to you that he hasn’t eaten in some time, so you wrap up your writing and close your journal, scooping up the small child. You drop the journal on your seat and pick up the sling, draping it around you and getting Grogu settled on your back, the warmth of him slowly seeping through your clothes.

“I’m going to make some food. Lunch, I guess? Are you going to eat?” You lean on the back of your chair, looking at Mando.

“Yeah. Sure.” He sounds hesitant and you suspect he’s not used to someone cooking for him.

“Cool. I’ll bring you some when it’s done. Grogu and I can eat in the hold.” When Mando doesn’t respond, you leave, descending the ladder to figure out what your options are food-wise.

***

When you return to the cockpit, you’re carrying a hot dish of a rice-like grain, seasoned, and mixed with cured meat and root vegetables. You’ve taken to using the basket from Cham to transport things between the two levels so you don’t have to puzzle out how to make the trip one handed.

“If you have any preferences, let me know. Otherwise, I’ll just keep making what tastes good to me.” You say casually as you hold out the dish.

Mando accepts it with both hands and looks up at you. “Thanks.”

With that you give him a little smile and leave, tapping the button to close the door on your way out. You head back to the hold and sit on one of the crates with Grogu, eating the meal. He seems to enjoy it and holds his empty dish up to you before you’ve finished yours.

“Look at you! Okay. It’s a good thing there’s still some left!” You fill his dish again and he eagerly tucks in.

By the time you’ve finished eating, Grogu’s eyes are drooping and you settle him into the little hammock that Mando has set up in the bunk. You get to work cleaning up, washing the pot, knife, and dishes in the bathroom sink, trying to conserve water since you’re not quite sure how much there is or whether you need to get more. When you’re done, you put everything away and climb back up to the cockpit. The door is open and Mando has set the empty dish back in the basket. You settle into your seat, setting your journal back in your lap.

“It was good. Thank you.”

You glance over at Mando and smile, “Good! I’m glad you liked it! I’m not familiar with all the spices you all have, yet, but I’m learning.”

“It’s better than I’m used to.”

You grin at the compliment. “Grogu seemed pretty happy with it! He had two helpings and then passed out.”

You begin to doodle in your journal, and it occurs to you that it might be good to create a key for yourself.

“Mando? If I copy down the names of the food and stuff, can you tell me what they say so I can translate them into something I can read? That way when we need more I can actually tell you what we’re low on?”

Mando gives you a nod so you hop out of the seat and head towards the ladder. “Do you want me to write them?”

You glance back to find Mando turned to face you. You don’t even notice the easy smile that pulls at your lips at his kindness. _He really is completely different than all the stories about Mandalorians that you heard during your time in the Cantina._ “That would be really helpful. Thank you.” You say giving him a grateful look. You weren’t sure you’d actually manage anything legible since much of the alphabet looks the same to you.

He follows you down the ladder and you hand over your pen and journal, turned to a fresh page. Mando carefully writes each label in the journal. He writes slowly and precisely and you get the impression that either he’s trying to make it easy for you to read, or he is unused to writing with a pen. Given how little paper you saw, you rather suspect that it’s the latter. Once he’s finished, he returns the book and sits on a crate.

“You’re going to write them in your language?”

“Yes.” You sit next to him, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. “What’s the first one, here?” You hold the book out and point.

Mando leans closer and his shoulder brushes yours as he looks at the page. “Negamo”

“Negamo?” You repeat, writing it the way it sounds. You continue on like this, hyper aware of Mando’s shoulder touching yours.

Mando continues down the list identifying unfamiliar sounding spices like tertium, catabar, and punctil, eventually pointing to one and identifying it as paprika.

“Wait, paprika? I know that one!” You turn excitedly and find yourself significantly closer to Mando than you expected, just inches away as that helm turns to face you. You feel the heat rising to your face and immediately turn back to the list to write ‘paprika’ next to the word he indicated. “We have that on Earth, too.” You stare at the page with determination as Mando gives a little cough and points to the next one.

“That’s halite or salt. Depends on where you are. The one you got is labeled salt.”

Mando finishes reading the names for you and you close your book. “I’m going to have to make notes so I can keep track of what they go with. At least I can mostly just work by taste and smell.” You’re almost muttering to yourself at this point, lost in thought, before looking at Mando as he stands. “Thank you. This is really helpful. If I’m going to be here for a while, I should probably start figuring out how to read…your language.”

“Basic.”

“Yes. That.” You give a firm nod. A thought comes to you and you set your journal aside. “Can I do a tarot reading for you?”

“No.” The response is blunt, and you frown.

“Why not? What about just a single card? Even the kid did that! And don’t you feel at all weird traveling with someone you don’t know?” you look at Mando incredulously.

“I know what I need to.” There’s no malice in the words, but it irritates you nonetheless.

“And what exactly is that, hm?” You didn’t mean to sound so salty and you school your expression into something softer.

“The kid trusts you.” Mando says with a shrug before turning to climb back up to the cockpit, leaving you standing there, stunned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three of Pentacles represents teamwork, collaboration, learning, and implementation


End file.
